As I gaze around our home, it strikes me that I owe you a heartfelt apology. Your parents are weary, and you may have noticed that by now. Your older siblings have taken quite a toll on us, which means we’re giving you our “B” game. There was a time not long ago when we were strict about bedtimes, when we wouldn’t entertain PB&J as a nightly dinner option, and when all the movies we watched were suitable for young audiences. But those parents vanished a couple of kids ago.
Now, your life is a little chaotic. The older kids are up late, and that often means you are too. Just last night, I found you fast asleep on the couch at 10 p.m. with Star Wars playing in the background. It made me wonder if you should have been tucked in bed instead. But we were too exhausted to carry you upstairs. Instead, I nestled beside you, cradling you in my arms, admiring those lovely eyelashes of yours. I realize you’re already five, and I probably stopped doing this with your siblings around the age of two, so I apologize. I just can’t help but treasure these moments with my baby and hold onto your youth for as long as I can. You seemed perfectly content, snuggled against me until Dad finally carried you for a quick stop in your bed before you crawled into ours.
I regret that you have to navigate life with such an entourage. While your older siblings only had me and Dad to guide them, you have a whole crew watching your every move. It must be overwhelming to be “parented” by so many. They adore you — their sweet baby brother — and want to be with you constantly.
By the time you turned two, you were hardly ever on your own two feet, carried by eager hands. Now, it seems there’s always someone vying to hold your hand or help you reach for the cotton candy I’ve hidden on top of the fridge. You are in high demand, and it’s a real challenge. One of your earliest phrases was “too much love,” and we know this to be true. What’s a kid to do with all that affection?
I feel bad about your wardrobe too. Your older siblings had a carefully curated selection of outfits, while you have piles of clothes to sift through. These piles consist of hand-me-downs mixed with a few random items I picked up during quick trips to the store. Sometimes remnants of old Halloween costumes find their way into the mix. I’m often too tired to insist you change out of your football uniform before school, so off you go just as you are.
We’re still working on getting you to put on your shoes by yourself, but with so many helpers around, it’s been a slow process. I’ve come to realize that parenting isn’t a race to see whose child can master skills first. At this point, I don’t mind when you learn to tie your shoes, as long as you’re not relying on your college roommate to do it for you when you leave home. Honestly, I’m just grateful you can mostly dress yourself. You often seem to feel quite dapper, especially in that Willy Wonka costume your sister gifted you for Christmas, so maybe I should consider your wardrobe a success.
I also want to apologize for the fact that you can recite all the lyrics to “Baby Got Back” and have a favorite episode of The Office. We might have relaxed our screening rules a bit, and you could be living more like a child from the ’80s — much like how we watched our mom’s soap operas. Perhaps I can label this approach “retro-parenting”? Regardless, you have been exposed to an array of experiences that your oldest sister missed at your age. On the plus side, you’re likely to be the popular kid at the lunch table, unlike your oldest sister, who was still unaware of who the Kardashians were in seventh grade. I apologize in advance if your attempts to educate your more sheltered classmates land you in the principal’s office; I may even show up to take the blame.
You are our final child, our last little miracle. The wonderful news is that the one resource we haven’t exhausted is our love for you. We’ve learned valuable lessons from your older siblings about how fleeting these moments are, how quickly you’ll grow, and how essential it is to savor every second. So, when we hug you a little too tightly, let you indulge in your youth a little too long, and shower you with abundant love, know it comes from the depth of our hearts. You will grow up surrounded by love, and while the constant PB&J dinners (and occasional ice cream) and the slightly inappropriate television shows may not be the typical upbringing, we hope they won’t leave permanent scars. You are the last great joy in our lives.
With love,
Your exhausted but incredibly affectionate parents