Weekends are definitely more difficult than the weekdays.
I have to constantly remind myself how wonderful Franklin is. When we ask him to prepare for swimming lessons and he says “No” I have to remind myself that if this is the extent of his “rebellion” then we are extremely fortunate.
And it is - the extent of his rebellion. For a child who has been the centre of my life for 5 years, his entire life, he is doing remarkable well with this whole "new sibling" thing.
I have to remind myself that after I put Eliza down and Franklin yells across the room about some random shark fact (did you know that
Shark Water is out on video finally?
FINALLY?) and she wakes up again that it wasn’t intentional. The fact that he forgets she’s here isn’t his fault and really, it’s nice that he isn’t worried about her all the time.
I have to remind myself that my reminder of hugging her gently was actually followed through and that his leap onto the bed before that and narrowly missing her head is only enthusiasm and not malice. We are lucky he is so enamoured with her.
I have to remind myself that we have a wonderful boy who is trying so hard. Having a sibling this late in the game will take getting used to. My brother (18 months older) didn’t really know any different. I probably always seemed like I was there. Franklin, on the other hand, can remember before Eliza was born. He remembers what it was like.
I had a friend come over for a visit today. Her children are spread 4 years apart. Her son reminds her of what things were like before his little brother came along – “Mommy and Me Time”. It breaks her heart. I wonder if Franklin thinks about this. He seems good about it all. He tells Eliza he loves her (even when he thinks we aren’t listening) but I hope he’s also happy. He’s such a pleaser (inherited from his mother) that I wonder if he believes this is how he’s supposed to act.
I’ve tried to talk to him about it but we weren’t alone and I think he needs some time to think about what we talked about. His responses were very “No big deal, Mum”.
Of course, I may also be over thinking this entire thing. He may truly feel that things are “No big deal”. Perhaps he has inherited the ability to take things in stride from… not me.
Dickson? Perhaps….
or maybe when you are born on the west coast it seeps into your genes.
Posted by Ada
