About a month ago, I dished up a plate of dinner for Faith…on a red plate. She came to the dinner table and announced: “I don’t want a red plate, I want an orange plate.” I continued to serve up dinner to the rest of the crowd. Faith grabbed a stool, scooted it over to the counter, climbed up, opened the cabinet containing plates, found an orange one, got back down and brought it over to the table. I scraped her food from her red plate to her orange plate and she got into her chair, ready to eat.
Ryan looked at me and said “And that is the difference between parenting your first child and parenting your fifth child.”
With my first, I would have insisted that she eat from the red plate. (“No child of mine will be so picky as to need to have a certain color plate!”) I would have been unyielding in letting her know that I was the boss and, because we are a family, we simply don’t cater to those kinds of demands.
With my fifth, I think “Why would I possibly put up a fight over a plate?! Plus, bonus! She got it herself, without any trouble to me.”
Sorry, Emma (though there are bonuses to being first. I’m a first and I like a lot of things about it.) I sometimes (LOTS of times?) feel guilty, but I also, sometimes, just can recognize the growth and appreciate it. Yay for 12.5 years of learning how to be a Mother. I’m going to be so PERFECT after 40 years, I just know it!