I’ve always found there are advantages and disadvantages to every situation; you must make what you will of them.
I was an only child — and trust me — it definitely had its advantages.
Only children get to spend all their time in the limelight and don’t really have to share much; there is nobody to fight with, nobody to pull your hair; you become quite independent and creative; and of course, all the Christmas presents under the tree are for you.
But then again, being an only child has its drawbacks, too. Such as when you do something wrong (a true rarity), there is nobody else to point the finger at, and also no one to rally with you to sway authority (numbers always increase your odds). As an expert, I have seen the long-term side effects of being an only child include not knowing how to ask for help, being bossy and talking to yourself (when your parents ignore you, which they inevitably will do).
While growing up as an only child worked for me (for the most part — yes, I still talk to myself), when thinking about my own family, I knew I wanted to have more than one. Handling two (or more) is a whole other subject, but having a sibling always ensures you have someone to play with, and a person in your corner. My boys are close in age, and have grown up spending all their time together.
I thought there might be a transitional phase this year with my oldest son leaving to go off to school. But my youngest has gotten along really well on his own. He misses his brother, but enjoys playing with all of the outlawed toys while he is out of the house. It’s the closest thing to being an only child he has ever experienced.
But, be sure, the little one never misses out on a chance to take, or pick up, his brother from school (even when he could just sleep in with his dad). He is devoted that way, and he always wants to be a part of the action.
But, the other day, I truly caught a glimpse of how deep that bond runs, and exactly what it means to have a sibling.
We went to pick up my Kindergartner from school, just as we do every other day. By this point, my youngest son knows the routine all too well. We wait in line, show our pickup tag, and enter the gym. I don’t know if it’s because it was a Friday, or because it had been a long week, but he was very anxious that day. He grabbed the pickup tag and rushed through the doors waving it excitedly to the workers at the school. Then he ran up to the spot where we wait for the kids.
Suddenly he got very worried. “Where’s Wyatt? Where is he?”
He’s coming.
“But I don’t see him.”
Finally the classes started to file into the gym. “There’s Wyatt’s teacher,” said Garrett enthusiastically.
And then he saw his brother.
“There’s Wyatt!!” he said bouncing up and down, and waving with pure enthusiasm.
At this point, he could no longer hold it back; he took off to his brother, threw his arms around him, and gave him the biggest hug ever.
It brought tears to my eyes when I saw their outward display of affection (especially while I realize these times are few and far between). Sometimes I forget when they wrestle around, hit each other, and steal each other’s toys, just how much they really love each other.
We’ve always told the boys: “Make friends; make as many as you can.” Friends are an important part of growing up. “But your brother (however mean he may be), will be here for you — even when times are bad — and he will always have your back.” There are not too many people you can say that about.
I’ve always known my youngest son thought my oldest hung the moon in the sky. It’s just nice to see it in action every now and then — and know that the love goes both ways, because the big one hugged the little one right back.
