I have three children born in the following order: Oliver, George and Eleanor. And as number two out of three, George won the title of middle child. By default of course, since he’s a twin… But boy, has he lived lived up to it.
When I was pregnant with the twins, I knew that I was having a boy and a girl and that “Baby A” (the one who would be delivered first) was a boy. The order seemed rather inconsequential to me since the c-section that was looking probable would put a single minute’s span between their individual entrances into the world.
So it astounded me when people talked about George being my middle child. How could he be Eleanor’s “older brother” when they shared a birthday and the same 18 months’ age difference with Oliver? It was just silly.
But – laugh as I did, I’ve also found there to be some truth to this. Because George engenders many typical “middle child syndrome” behaviors.
First – he’s very aware of ownership. And once he stakes a claim on something, he will fight to the death to protect what is his. Like all other toddlers, he did his fair share of screaming “MINE!” and redefining “share” to mean “gimmie that.” But it doesn’t seem to be a phase that he’s quickly outgrowing. It’s not that he wants everything…just a few things to lord over his siblings. The red Lightning McQueen sippy cup? His. The scooter with less dirt on the foot board? HIS! Please don’t touch the merchandise. Trespassers will be prosecuted and punished to the full extent of the law.
And this makes sense to me. Oliver is the oldest and has always had his own things. Two thirds of the toys in our house belonged to Oliver first. Of course, he’d rather play with toilet paper or cups of water (or worse – both)…but that’s another post in and of itself. Most of George’s things are hand me downs.
Also, since Eleanor is a girl – and a girly girl at that – she automatically has her own possessions that the boys have no interest in sharing. She has no need to defend her territory. And as a girl, she is treated differently – more gently. Not on purpose, but I can see how it happens. She gets babied more. And has taken over that role. She’s the baby of the family. And George fell into the only position left in the line up.
Like most other “middle” children, George has had to develop a strong personality to enforce his demands (of which there are many). He is tiny for his age – even smaller than his twin sister – but he is most definitely a force to be reckoned with. Woe to the unlucky traveler who crosses his path when he’s in a temper. The volume of his cries for justice can do more damage to your eardrums than close proximity to amps at a rock concert. He’s a screamer. And he’s loud.
Most middle children I know remind me of George in their need to be seen, heard, understood and appreciated. But I’ve also noticed that many of them – like George – aren’t a true “middle.” For example, they may be number two or three in a family of four kids. Once the number exceeds three, it seems that anyone who isn’t first or last gets a shot at middle child status. It could also be gender…physical or emotional challenges…anything to set them apart from the rest as the one who needs just a little more validation and attention. The one who isn’t handed a position title. Their resumes would include terms such as “self starter” and “results driven.”
So I wonder if it’s the age order or simply the way we treat our children that sustains this family phenomenon. Probably both. The oldest will always have more time and more new stuff as a byproduct of being first. And the youngest will be the last baby – a label that seems to stick. Everyone in between will need to find their own way, and this will be easier for some than others. It’s a lot of work for George, but I think he’s up to the job.
And of course – every family is different. Some have more kids than others…different gender combinations…various challenges and special needs situations… That has to play its part as well. Toss in the element of innate personality and you’ve got endless possibilities for middle child status assignment.
As I typed this, George was either sitting in my lap, climbing over my shoulder like a small monkey or yelling to me from another room. He’s just as good at playing quietly by himself – but he’ll never be lost in the shuffle. My inlaws once referred to him as a “howler monkey” during a beach vacation when he spent the entire week clinging to me and screaming. The fact that we later discovered a double ear infection didn’t change the perception. The nickname stuck for a while.
They say the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and I wonder if it’s a coincidence that George literally squeaked like a rusty hinge when he was an infant. I would listen to him creaking away as he slept in his infant car seat and marvel at how bizarre it was. I had never heard anything like it in my life. And I haven’t since. George is a true original. Would he have been like this no matter what, or did we unwittingly encourage it? We can only guess…but I wouldn’t change him. My middle child always keeps things interesting.
