Wednesday, September 12, 2012

First, middle and last

My sweet pea from Izzy
Last Spring Break, Sunita came to visit with the kids and Izzy gave me some Sweet Pea seeds. I planted them this summer and here is one of the tiny little pink flowers.

Anyway, the rest of this post is about another article I found - this one written by Erma Bombeck in 1971 - long before I had children. It was reprinted many years later. You know how children will sometimes think you love one child more than the other? Well, Erma sets the record straight. She said she wrote the following to each of her children:

To The Firstborn:
I've always loved you best because you were our first miracle. You were the genesis of a marriage, the fulfillment of a young love, the promise of infinity. You sustained us through the hamburger years. The first apartment furnished in Early Poverty... our first mode of transportation (1955 feet)... the 7-inch TV set we paid on for 36 months. You were new, had unused grandparents and more clothes than a Barbie doll. You were the "original model" for unsure parents trying to work the bugs out. You got the strained lamb, open pins and three-hour naps. You were the beginning.

To The Middle Child
I've always loved you the best because you drew a dumb spot in the family and it made you stronger for it. You cried less, had more patience, wore faded clothes and never in your life did anything "first" bu tit only made you more special. You are the one we relaxed with, and realized a dog could kiss you and you wouldn't get sick. You could cross a street by yourself long before you were old enough to get married and the world wouldn't come to an end if you went to bed with dirty feet. You were the continuance.

To The Baby
I've always loved you the best because ending generally are sad and you are such a joy. You readily accepted the milk-stained bibs. The lower bunk. The cracked baseball hat. The baby book, barren but for a recipe for graham pie crust that someone jammed between the pages. You are the one we held on to so tightly. For you see, you were the link to the past that gives a reason to tomorrow. You darken our hair, quicken our steps, square our shoulders, restore our vision and give us humor that security and maturity can't give us. When your hairline takes on the shape of Lake Erie, and your children tower over you, you will still be "the Baby." You were the culmination.

I would change a few things but the basic sentiments would still be that each child has a special place in a parent's heart and there is enough room to love each child (and each grandchild).



  1. Hmmm, still sounds like the middle child got the shaft here.

  2. hey. the baby got the lower bunk AND the stained bibs.


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