Dear precious youngest one (also known as baby number five),
As I sit back and look around our home, I feel compelled to express my sincere apologies. If you haven’t noticed, your parents are running on empty. Your older siblings have worn us out, and what you’re getting from us these days might just be our “B” game. There was once a time when strict bedtimes were a must, when peanut butter and jelly wasn’t the default dinner option, and when we made sure every movie you watched was family-friendly. But that version of us vanished after the second child.
As a result, your little world is a bit chaotic. Your older siblings tend to stay up late, which means you do too. Just last night, I found you snoozing on the couch at 10 p.m. while Star Wars played loudly in the background. It made me wonder… shouldn’t you be tucked in bed? But, in our fatigue, we opted for a snuggle instead. I wrapped my arms around you, admiring your long lashes, knowing I likely stopped doing this with your siblings by the time they were two. Forgive me for holding onto your babyhood a little longer; it’s just so hard to let go. You seemed to enjoy it, snuggling up until Dad eventually carried you off to your bed, only for you to sneak into ours later.
I also want to apologize for the ever-present entourage that seems to follow you. While your older siblings only had to deal with Mom and Dad, you have a whole team of siblings “helping” you. I can only imagine how it feels to be parented by so many. They adore you, their sweet little brother, and it’s no surprise that hands are always reaching out to hold yours or give you a hug. It must be tough to navigate all that love, especially when you coined the phrase “too much love” at an early age.
Your wardrobe is another area where I owe you an apology. Your older siblings had carefully curated outfits, while you seem to have a collection of hand-me-downs mixed with random finds from Target. Sometimes even remnants of Halloween costumes sneak into your closet! I must admit, I’m too tired to insist you change when you decide to wear your football uniform to school. And while we’re still working on you putting on shoes by yourself, I’ve come to realize that parenting is not about who reaches milestones first. I’m just grateful you can mostly dress yourself. You do seem to enjoy your outfits, especially that Willy Wonka costume your sister gifted you, so perhaps it’s not a total loss.
I apologize that you know the lyrics to “Baby Got Back” and have a favorite episode of The Office. There’s a good chance we’ve relaxed our standards on what you watch and listen to. In a way, you might be experiencing a sort of “retro-parenting,” reminiscent of our own childhoods when we watched our moms’ soap operas. You are experiencing the world in ways your oldest sister never did at your age. But hey, you’re likely to be the cool kid in school, unlike your oldest sister, who didn’t even know who the Kardashians were until seventh grade. Just a heads up, though: your attempts to enlighten your more sheltered classmates might land you in the principal’s office. I’ll be there to help take the heat if needed.
You are our little caboose, our final addition, and the best part is that our capacity for love has not diminished. We’ve learned valuable lessons from your siblings about how fleeting this time is and how important it is to savor every moment. So, when we hug you a little tighter, let you be small a bit longer, and shower you with love, know that it comes from the depths of our hearts. You will grow up in a home overflowing with love, and perhaps the constant stream of PB&J dinners (and the occasional scoop of ice cream), the questionable TV shows, and inconsistent bedtimes will just be charming quirks of your childhood.
With all our love,
Your somewhat weary but endlessly affectionate parents
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In summary, this letter conveys an affectionate apology to the youngest child for the imperfections of parenting that come with being the fifth child. Despite the chaos, the love is abundant, and the family cherishes every moment.