There’s a new brand of crazy in town; the second child. Bugger this middle child shit, second children are sweeping the nation. With their crazed antics. Turning parents’ hair grey. Fraying nerves left, right and centre. All with a cheeky grin and a sass mouth.
In honour of my littlest lady (because, we ALL know we have to be equal with all our children. I don’t want to be chipped for featuring one not the other, you know), I’ve been conducting some market research into the second child. And by market research, I mean whinging to all and sundry “holy shit! My kid is CRAZY! So completely different to her big sister” and then receiving knowing nods, sympathetic eyes, gentle pats on the shoulder and a “yep, my second is a crazed nutter too”. Solidarity. #fistpump So by my really super duper, extensively and scientifically validated market research I have come to a conclusion. There is a syndrome for children that come after the firstborn. I’ve aptly named it “second child syndrome”. Oh yeah, I’m all edgy with my naming of said syndrome.
*NB: It must be noted that this syndrome only applies to our own offspring. It doesn’t apply to us in our own sibset. Oh no no. Because we are awesome and we don’t succumb to stereotypes. Also covering my ass for any second children out there reading this and thinking ‘wtf’.
But it’s real, isn’t it? It’s out there. The first born is a sweet cherub, emotional, caring, sensitive. And then there comes number two. A walking tornado. They come in like a wrecking ball, feisty, spirited, cheeky, and the cruelest twist of all? They seem to develop shit earlier because they’re competitive and god damn it, they will beat their older sibling. The destruction is wanton. They’re like a ready-made middle child, only there’s no sibling coming behind them. Perhaps out of fear for what the next line of child will bring. I hear the third is normally back to being chilled- to balance out the madness. I’m pretty certain that argument won’t convince my husband though. He’s still rocking in the corner in the foetal position. Sometimes with second child sitting on his head (yes, head. Not shoulders. That’s pansy shit. Head is where it’s at).
The poor firstborn is thrown for a six, thinking they *should* be the ones dominating, but clearly getting dominated. Quite often Miss DP will just sit there and cry when Miss SP wails on her. And I’m in shock. What the hell have I raised here? Oh my gosh girl, you’re BIGGER. You don’t have to cop that! But yet, she does. Her sensitive firstborn nature dictates it to be so.
Some of the tales I’ve heard of second child syndrome include:
- ‘waxing’ the family dog. And then applying bark all over the poor thing. With the intention of making puppy ‘shiny’
- Referring to poor parents as ‘f*&$ing bum bums’ for not handing over the My Dog in the requisite time to feed the dog. Sure, the f-bomb might have been picked up from said parents, but hey- no need to use it against them. Sheesh
- Riding siblings like they’re racing in the Melbourne Cup
- Throwing 1kg of cous cous all over the ground. Because. Fuuuuuuun Mummy!
- Putting stickers all over the family dog. Fairy ones at that. On a boy. Ooooh yes, someone has obviously read that toy gender article and is clearly protesting.
Underneath all that extra spark and feistiness though, is the most fiercely loving and loyal child. While they may pummel their siblings senseless, the second child is also ready to defend them in a heartbeat. The jokester of the family, no one can ever stay mad at them because they’re freaking hilarious. They know fun, and they live and breathe excitement. They’re infectious. When they’re not beating you senseless, or throwing rocks at you (yes, I had rocks thrown at me whilst hanging the washing out the other day). Are they insane? Yes. Would you change them for the world? Not.one.bit.
So, really, with the second it’s all about strapping in and preparing for the crazy ride. And having a blast while doing so. The sass mouth will form part of those hilarious memories you chuckle over when you’re all older. From the vineyard you now own because you figured it was cheaper to buy your own than to continually buy Dan Murphy’s out of all the booze.
Note: for what it’s worth, birth order is a giant load of shit. But it’s funny to pretend sometimes, isn’t it? Particularly regarding your own siblings.
What say you on birth order? Did you know that apparently according to ‘research’, for each successive child, their IQ drops by 3 points? Hmmmm, I don’t buy it.Except in my family. Works for me, not so much for my brothers. Suckers. Do you have a sass mouth second child?