Green Grass and Purple Nail Polish: The Ballad of “Hand-Me-Down” Kid.

The proverbial foliage is always a bit greener on the other side of the fence.  That is a lesson not lost on my eldest son.  He has come to an age where the discrepancy in parenting between he and his brother can be a bit of a sticking point.  It is true, the expectations placed on the behavior and achievement of a 9 year old is a bit steeper than that which we place upon our youngest at the tender age of 4.  Being twice as old, he carries twice the burden.  Fair?  Perhaps not, but nobody said life was going to be fair.  There is a reverse side to this coin.  As the eldest son (and eldest by a fair bit, I might add) he has some inherent advantages over his younger tag along.  An heir and a spare, as it is referred to in the Royal family, means that often times the best is poured upon the eldest and the youngest is left with the scraps.  We do our best not to allow for this discrepancy, but it is inevitable to a certain extent.  The reality is that each of their stations in life have influenced the way they look at the world.  The youngest is in a constant pitched battle to gain the eldest status while the eldest dreams of being treated with kid gloves.  Our eldest has a want for things . . . an expectation of reward for his hard work.  He doesn’t get without giving.  As such, the lust for material possession is much more prominent in his life.  The youngest has inherited much.  He has little interest in material possessions.  Most of his inventory is a hand-me-down, right down to the clothes on his back.  He is in fact next up in line for birthday celebration and when asked what he desired he listed but one item.  When asked what else he would like, his reply was that he only wanted the one thing.  The eldest however has already accumulated a mass of Christmas wishes.  The youngest is quite happy with what his elder brother has outgrown and doesn’t feel compelled by the carrot approach.  Unfortunately he is not persuaded with the stick either.  I think he learned that from his elder brother.  Both are as tough as nails and a swat on the rear end is unlikely to produce even the slightest of whimpers.  The age appropriateness of the eldest’s psyche means that parenting is a bit of a cinch.  The younger being a big boy in little boy clothes means that when it comes to parenting, life becomes a bit of a chess match.  Making that clear to the eldest complicates things even further.  What works with one child will not always work with the next, even within the same family structure.  This constant balancing act is, to be quite honest, exhausting for the wife and I.  We are by no mean perfect parents to either of our lads.  We are flawed and for that we certainly owe them a hearty apology.  In the end, the best we can offer them as parents is simply our time.  And that my friends, makes all the difference in the world.  It isn’t always so easily given and at times is lost along the way, but generally our time is given freely and without restriction.  My dad once said that the worst thing you can do for your kids is being no influence at all.  A bad influence is better than none.  I think there is some truth in that.  Doing our best to generally be a beacon to guide themselves toward the good we make our way through the days, the weeks, the months and the years.  In the end, I hope they look back without resentment and know that we did our best.  Our best is perhaps not “THE” best, but giving them everything in our hearts, minds and souls will be our lasting legacy.  Their job will be to sift the bad from the good and take with them the parts of their parents that truly sing and leave behind the spoil and the waste.  There isn’t a parent alive that gets it all “Right” and those that think they have are fooling themselves.  So, we will do our best to right our wrongs, buy the youngest his own identity and let the eldest see the rigors of life as a spare.  One day, I promise, we will make them proud.  After all, in the end it is I that will be seeking their approval, not the other way around.  That is the cycle of life.  Like bookends, we begin and end life in diapers.  Children become parent and then parents become children.  I only hope they offer to buy me a new toy once in a while when I am soiling myself in the retirement home.

The final revelation of the day is this . . . my recently devastated pinkie toe is now on the mend.  That being said, the nail remains a lovely dark violet that unfortunately seems to match the paint upon my wife’s flintstone digits.  This was not lost on my youngest who quite astutely inquired as to why I had painted my toe like mommies.  Not wanting to show weakness by tearing up when he began poking and my wounded soldier, I simply said, “because purple is my favorite color”.  I am going to screw that kid up yet.  Stay tuned.  R.