It’s tough to be second
February 8th, 2011
I feel for Bitty Bug. I really do. It’s tough to be the second-born. A few illustrations:
1) There are exponentially fewer pictures of you than of your big sister. (I try to remember to get the camera out, but I know there are fewer. Looking back, it appears that every time we changed Miss Mouse’s outfit, we took twenty pictures. I have no idea why.)
2) You are forced to wear your big sister’s hand-me-downs.
3) Said big sister thinks it’s a fun game to whack you in the head when you’re trying to have dinner.
4) Your mother gets your birthday wrong in your baby book.
It’s that last one that’s gnawing at me right now and makes me fearful of being billed for future therapy sessions for my son. It wasn’t actually an official “baby book” — it was the photobook I created to chronicle the year 2010. There it is, plain as day:
Buggie: November 23, 2010.
Um, my son’s birthday is SEPTEMBER 23, 2010.
I have actually made this same mistake on more than one occasion. It’s because of the numerical rendering of his birth date. 9/23/10. Nine, twenty-three, ten. It’s the “nine” that kills me. Somehow, that translates into “November” in my brain. I don’t know why. When I say the numbers, I never make a mistake. But when I say the month, it comes out wrong. Sigh.
I take some consolation from the fact that lots of other people failed to notice the mistake. Like my son’s father. And his grandparents (on both sides). It took a great-aunt to say…”Hey, wasn’t he born in September?“
Sigh. I’m sorry, son. We really do value you as much as your big sister. I swear.