Dear sweet baby of the family (a.k.a. child number five),
As I gaze around our busy home, I feel compelled to write you this note. It’s clear to me that your parents are running on fumes these days. Your older siblings have drained our energy, and we find ourselves offering you our “second best.” You might not realize that once upon a time, we enforced strict bedtimes, said no to PB&J for dinner every night, and kept our movie selection firmly within the G-rated realm. But alas, those parents vanished a couple of kids ago.
Now, your world is a little wobbly. The older kids stay up late, and more often than not, so do you. The sight of you dozing on the couch last night at 10 p.m. with Star Wars blasting nearby made me pause. Shouldn’t you be in bed? Yet, we were too exhausted to carry you upstairs. Instead, I nestled under you, held you close, and admired those beautiful eyelashes. I know you’re five now, and I probably stopped doing that with your siblings by age two. I’m sorry, but I simply can’t help but cherish my little one for as long as I can. You seemed just fine with it as you snuggled in until Dad eventually scooped you up for a quick stop in your bed before you ended up back in ours.
I apologize for the fact that you have a whole entourage monitoring your every move. While your older siblings had just me and Dad to answer to, you’ve got a whole squad of older siblings keeping an eye on you. I can only imagine how overwhelming it must be to be “parented” by six different people! They all adore you, our sweet little guy, and everyone wants to be part of your adventures.
Your feet barely touched the ground before you turned two, thanks to all the hands eager to carry you. Now, there’s always someone vying to hold your hand or help you reach the cotton candy I have stashed atop the fridge. You have quite the fan club, and I know that can be tiring. One of your earliest phrases was “too much love,” and we get it—what’s a kid to do?
I’m also sorry about your wardrobe situation. While your older siblings had curated outfits, your attire is more of a mix-match collection. You’ve got piles of hand-me-downs from your siblings, along with a few random finds from Target sprinkled in. Sometimes, parts of old Halloween costumes even make the cut. And I’m often too tired to intervene when you decide to wear your football uniform to school, so off you go!
We’re still working on getting you to put your shoes on by yourself, but with so many helpers around, it’s a bit tricky. I’ve come to realize that parenting isn’t a race to see whose child can master skills first. I honestly don’t care when you learn to tie your shoes, as long as you’re not relying on your college roommate to do it for you! I’m just thrilled that you (mostly) dress yourself. You always seem to feel quite dapper, especially in that Willy Wonka costume your sister gifted you for Christmas. Maybe I should consider your wardrobe a win after all.
I’m sorry that you know all the lyrics to “Baby Got Back” and that you can recite your favorite episode of The Office. It seems we’ve relaxed our standards when it comes to what you watch and listen to. In fact, you might be living a lifestyle reminiscent of the ’80s—much like I did when I was your age, watching my mom’s soap operas. So, we can call this “retro-parenting,” right?
On the bright side, you’ll likely be the cool kid at the lunch table, unlike your oldest sister, who didn’t even know who the Kardashians were until seventh grade. I apologize in advance for the trouble you might face when trying to educate your older classmates, which could land you in the principal’s office. I just might show up to take the heat.
You are our little caboose, our last child, our grand finale. The good news is that the one resource we haven’t exhausted is love. We’ve learned so much from your siblings about how fleeting this time is, how quickly you’ll grow, and how essential it is to cherish every moment. So, when we hug you a little too tightly, allow you to hold onto your childhood a bit longer, and shower you with love, know it all comes from a place of deep affection. You’ll grow up enveloped in love, and hopefully, the constant stream of PB&J dinners (okay, and maybe some ice cream), the borderline inappropriate TV shows, and the inconsistent bedtimes won’t leave too many marks that can’t be healed by the fact that you are the last great love of our lives.
With love,
Your tired, but infinitely loving parents