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My Firstborn Didn’t Prepare Me for My Wild Child
As I awaited the arrival of our second little one, I found myself gently cradling my growing belly and pondering the chaos that lay ahead. Our first child, a cheerful and curious little boy named Ben, has always been what one might call “easy.” He’s cautious, trusting that a single warning about potential dangers is enough to keep him from straying into trouble. Baby-proofing our home was a breeze, consisting of a few hastily placed outlet covers and a baby gate primarily for our dog. He doesn’t bolt from me in public and is careful to assess his surroundings—especially before attempting to slide down at the park.
Ben is no climber or daredevil. I could count on him to stay glued to his favorite show while I snuck away for a shower. So, naturally, I assumed our second would be a bit different, perhaps requiring a tad more supervision. I hoped she’d take a page from her brother’s book and be another relatively low-maintenance baby.
That hopeful notion was dashed during Thanksgiving 2015 when my daughter, Emma, decided to start crawling that very day. In the blink of an eye, she was zipping across the room faster than I could react. Once she discovered how to move, she was determined to explore every nook and cranny at breakneck speed.
It didn’t take long for us to realize that crawling and eventually walking were merely her gateways to getting into trouble. Our home quickly transformed into a fortress of bumpers, locks, latches, and anchored furniture, all in a desperate attempt to keep her safe. I even shoved outlet covers into every socket as if that would offer me some peace of mind.
But it didn’t work.
While some parents worry about their kids swallowing small toys, I’ve fished a pencil sharpener out of Emma’s mouth and have caught her wielding knives on numerous occasions. She has no qualms about getting up close and personal with strange dogs, gazing into their eyes as if to declare her love.
One day, while loading our car with the diaper bag and stroller, I momentarily set the kids on the front porch. Just as I turned my back for two seconds to place the items inside, I glanced back to find only Ben. A quick glance in the opposite direction revealed Emma, beaming as she stood in the middle of the street—having silently trotted right past me.
In many ways, your first child does prepare you for the arrival of the second. You gain a treasure trove of knowledge by the time baby No. 2 arrives. However, all that wisdom about diaper changes and snot-sucking has proven utterly useless. This is now the Thunderdome, and my daughter has made it her mission to live life at full volume.
Instead of allowing Ben some independence at the playground, I’m now glued to Emma, ready to catch her if she decides to launch herself off the highest point of the jungle gym. After too many close calls of her escaping my grip, I’ve resorted to holding onto the back of her shirt, pretending it’s not a leash—just without the leash.
We’ve instituted a ban on board games with tiny pieces after discovering colorful plastic bits in her diapers. In my morning daze, I often wrestle with our pantry door, momentarily forgetting I installed a lock at the top to keep her out of the dog food. At 20 months, I still carry her in crowded places—not for cuddles, but to prevent her from bolting across a parking lot.
People often mention how different two children can be, but they rarely elaborate. It’s not until you’re living it that you realize “different” can mean one child prefers quiet play while the other is a master at creating heart-stopping scenarios.
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In summary, the transition from one child to two has been an unexpected adventure filled with lessons, laughter, and a whole lot of chaos. Embracing the wild side of parenting has made every moment worth it, even if it’s a bit more hair-raising than I ever imagined.