YESTERDAY was Terzo’s nine-month birthday.
Primo’s nine-month birthday, we’d have had a celebration; I’d have told everyone I encountered, all day long; we might even had had cake. We definitely had portraits taken.
Seg’s nine-month birthday, I’d have told everyone. Also portraits taken, but probably a month later.
With Terzo – wait, is he nine months yet?
Ah, the sad lot of the third child.
BUT he does get some perks from being third.
You wanna chew on the bagel that’s been lying on the floor? Be my guest. Especially if you will stop whining to be picked up.
You wanna crawl around naked, increasing hugely, obviously, the potential for pee on the floors? Go to town. Your potty-training brother has already permanently imbued the carpets with the faint smell of urine. Let’s not even mention the COUCH.
The lady at the deli wants to give you cheese/the lady at the bakery wants to give you a cookie/the Italian store lady wants to feed you biscotti? Ok. Enjoy.
You want to eat five pierogies for dinner, eschewing any and all baby food offered? Fine by me. Especially since with all that starch in your belly, you sleep mostly through the night.
Conversely, I will never let you cry it out, since that keeps everyone awake, whereas if I take you back to bed with me and nurse you, everyone sleeps. Win-win. But which means you probably won't be weaned OR sleep through the night till you're sixteen, at this rate.
You get Motrin (albeit children’s rather than infants’) for your teething pains, Aquaphor for your red butt, and Zantac for your reflux, all without the excruciating debate or incompetence and lack of baby-knowledge that went on with the first two. Because who has time to 1) debate, or 2) deal with a screaming teether for three nights running?
You have two big brothers to entertain you when Mama is busy or not inclined to play; you have umpteen cousins who are happy to hold and play with you at family gatherings; and because it’s pretty certain you are the last grandchild, you are spoiled even more than the first eleven.
True, you may never learn your real name as everyone pretty much always refers to you as “The Baby;” as in, “Will someone see where The Baby is stuck?” “Hello, The Baby! I am happy to see you too!” or “The Baby is chewing on the cable modem, so get him away from there!”
Primo is going to be my tormented, deep, and emotional Goth, stomping around in his big black boots and trenchcoat; Seg is going to be the tomcat jock, nonchalantly charming a different wholesome girl every other week with that sweet yet devilish smile and sincere blue eyes. So when Terzo comes home stoned, with his pregnant, underage girlfriend in tow, I have a feeling I will greet the situation with an equanimity that just would not be possible with a firstborn child.
I’ll let you know in about eighteen years.
12 comments:
In about 15 1/2 years, Primo will be able to buy beer for the younger two. Let's hope they all stop peeing on rugs and couches by then. :-)
Let's stay in the present! One day at a time! For right now, Terzo is the cutest baby boy--I'm not ready to think about Goths, tomcats, or pregnant girlfriends!
Oh, and happy 9 mos!! Mwah!
Your so funny, and unfortunately so true!!! Our second child Gwen was a quiet baby. She had to be as first toddler didn't want her at all, so she lived as a baby for months on top of the dinning room table, too high for toddler too see. She knew too be quiet or toddler would find out she was there and go mental.
we've told Oldest that we plan to let Youngest drive when he's 15, drink when he's 16 and that he'll never have a curfew - just to piss him off.
What a sweet heart. I love those asleep in the carseat pictures.
I found you via wierdbunny.
We met a few months ago.
I have the same template as you do, and love it.
Also a friend showed me how to add music, I posted link.
http://savvycityfarmer.blogspot.com
I think Terzo definitely gets the best deal of all - parents who are laid back and loads of people around him to love him!
I agree Float - the first child is practice for the parents and has to do all the hard work teaching them what's what. When the other kids come along Mum and Dad aren't so hyper stressed thanks to some tutoring from number 1 :)
Happy nine-month birthday #3.
Our couches not only look alike, they smell alike.
Gold Canyon Candles are good at masking urine-filled house smell.
Terzo with a pregnant, under-age girlfriend? NO WOMAN is ever going to be good enough for MY boy (the problem begins early, with the mother...)
I love that picture of Terzo -- it's so sweet. I used to love to just look at my kids when they were sleeping and were little like that.
I have an overwhelming urge to reach into the computer and squeeze those chubby little thighs. Is there anything cuter than baby thighs?
With Numbah One Son we sterilized EVERYTHING, we measured all medications to the nanoliter, consulted all the experts in case of lingering doubts.
With Numbah Two Son? Hell, we let him juggle knives in his crib. At age 3, he even (I'm not making this up) picked up and, before we could stop him, stuck in his mouth a lollipop he found on the pavement of Main Street USA in Disneyland.
I have no idea who/when he'll grace us with grandchildren, but I DO know they'll inherit antibodies the size of oysters.
-J.
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