Last summer I wrote an entry dedicated to my little son, Guim, in which he explained that he was in that strange moment in which I wanted it to grow, but I wanted it to always be that way.
These days I have realized one thing: the eldest, for being the first, is the one who enjoys dad and mom in a more intense way but, also for being the first, losing out with respect to the little one because he will always be the last one (Guim already has four, but he is the little one, the one who still wants arms and to whom we still consent more than the others). So I wanted to dedicate a few words to say this: Jon, I know that you you don't remember the time you lived with us as an only child, but we will never forget.
But isn't it the first one with the most luck?
That is said. We believe that. They tell us that. That the first one is very lucky because he has the exclusivity of mom and dad, both of them caring for him, caring for him, worried about his present and his future and feeling very responsible for him: it is when parents are more cautious, when more worried We are of your well-being, when we take more photos of you, when we try to do more well, or very well, when we ask others more, etc.
In that sense we could say yes, it is the one that has more luck, because He is the only one who has his parents, in his first months or years, exclusively.
But then comes the second, and perhaps the third
Then another baby comes home and the one who was our child happens to be the older brother. And suddenly we see it very old compared to the baby. And we make it grow suddenly asking you to be more autonomous, more responsible, more ... greater. It's not fair, really, but unconsciously we do it, because we have to focus our greatest attention on the baby that has just arrived.
And in our case the years went by and Guim arrived, the third. And from that moment Jon, with 6 years, had to do himself. Of course we were there, of course we were still for him, but he was already the older brother of two children, and although the care of a third child is much more relaxed than with the first and second, because you are not so worried about everything and you know that with time everything happens, they are still three in total and the times of exclusivity with any of them are practically non-existent.
And you forgot
And one day I had to ask you if you remembered anything from when you were a baby, from the three years that dad, mom and you were the whole family; when we were only three And you told me no, that you didn't remember anything. Surely in fact yes ... sure that by explaining an event you are able to make some memory sprout, but so, by boat soon, you do not remember your tantrums and our patience, mom's hours giving you the exhausted tit and crying because you had braces, the hours Mom's strolling through the city on the roads you wanted, because if you didn't ride some chickens, the first porridge, the first steps, the first words or the games with me, I no longer knew what to invent to entertain you when you were able to go to sleep at twelve or one when I would have been sleeping for two hours.
Nor do you remember the times in bed, stroking your hair, forehead, back, as a resource for you to fall asleep, sometimes for more than half an hour, or sometimes until I suddenly woke up and realized that I had stayed I slept with my hand still on your head. Or how you chased mom as if you were a satellite and that's why she started calling you like this: "my little satellite", always orbiting her, always following her as if the world without her made no sense.
You don't even remember that you grew up in our arms and in your backpack, that it wasn't until two years old that you decided to go in a stroller without complaining, nor that you had to be the one to hit the elevator button because if you didn't cry (and we had to leave to leave for you to call), that you did not want a cookie because it had already broken and you wanted it to be in one piece, or that you rejected the food and when we had already thrown away the leftovers you would ask us again, crying because you no longer You could eat it.
You don't remember anything we did for you, which was a lot, that it was with all the love we knew to give you and in the best way we knew how to do it: always attentive to your demands, always attentive to your needs, always with you, because you were already one of the family and you deserved to share our lives, and we wanted you to do it.
But it doesn't matter, because we have always been clear that love, feeling cared for, loved and accompanied It is something that is not remembered in the mind, but in the feeling. We have always known that although you do not remember the concrete facts, your skin remembers the caresses, your body remembers the arms, your mouth the breast of mom every time you needed it, and your heart the love that we have always given you.
But it doesn't matter, because we will never forget
And it doesn't matter because we won't forget what we just explained, or forget that you taught us to be parents and to be better people. Because we soon understood that to be a good father you have to be a good person. You taught us that life gets out of hand at times, how quickly everything happens, and that you did not come to adapt to this insensitive world that has no people but to take advantage of their needs and their shortcomings, but that you came to give us a second chance.
You didn't let us show you just nothing, because you knew from the beginning that it wasn't how you wanted to grow. And you taught us that children need company for the day, but also for the nights, and you told us that we had to love you, without conditions, at all times, always, so that you could be a good autonomous and independent day.
You taught us that with us you slept better, because it is normal for a baby to look for safety. You taught us that you were better in our arms, because it is normal for a baby to look for love and love. You taught us to respect your times, your needs, your rhythms, your desires, and to give you freedom to be yourself. To accompany you instead of molding you, to talk to you instead of to quarrel, to hug you instead of ignoring you, to breathe instead of punishing you.
And so you became the older brother, and you assumed your new role with courage, responsibility and common sense. You knew from the beginning that Aran, the new baby, needed us a lot, and you took care of it. You started spending more time with me, less with mom, and you didn't care. You let us know that we had not done so badly, that something we had done well if with three years You were able to understand that our love for you was not in doubt when your brother arrived, and by showing us that all the time we had dedicated to you, all the arms, all the hours without sleep, all the games and all the concessions had served to make you a child who felt loved.
I just hope that now, when you barely remember that time, you still feel that dear child. Because then Guim came and the thing was complicated a bit with so many at home, and with the elders having more and more responsibilities. I just hope that, because if you feel that way, even if you don't remember it, it will have been worth it.
Thanks Jon, thanks. Now we begin the road to adolescence, because in January you will be eleven years old, but what do you want me to say: when you were two or three years old I was terrified to reach that time and now that we are at the doors, the confidence I have in you is such, Such is the confidence I have in us (and that I have screwed up a few times), that I'm not afraid anymore. It's just a "come on Jon, let's go for it, that if we've got here, we can with more ... you'll be able to get out of the air. I'm sure!"
