There's an obvious difference in my children, but it was the quick gush of bright blood that clearly brought it forth. And, for some odd reason only known to the mothers of sons, blood has been on our agenda as of late.
Oldest son, of course, had his tonsils out.
Insert blood (and lots of it).
Middle son jumped on trampoline with older cousin.
Insert blood (streaming from nose).
Baby boy jumped on trampoline with brothers and friend.
Insert blood (dripping from nose, again).
Difference?
Oldest son panicked. Ran screaming through the house to seek relief from his mother. Middle son ran to mother, yet again, and required a little attention, but couldn't wait to get back down the the business of playing. Baby boy non-chalantly strolled up to mother, but never arrived. He veered left, wiped his nose with the back of his hand and kept on playing.
Could it be how I raised them? Yes, indeed.
Protectiveness surrounds the first born. Nary a boo-boo is ignored. It gets better. As children fall in line, they get more independent. Of course, even the thirdsie needs his mommy (and mine really loves his mommy), but he's also much more braver, courageous, independent and loves the attention. He's watched the antics of his brothers, and he's tried to follow. It's made him different, but the succession never became more clear than it did with our blood montage.
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