April 16, 2018
As I awaited the birth of our second child, I found myself pondering the journey ahead. Our first child, a cheerful, inquisitive, yet cautious boy, was what many would label “easy.” He required assistance in nearly every aspect of his life, yet a simple explanation of potential dangers was often enough for him to heed warnings. Our home was baby-proofed with minimal effort: a few outlet covers thrown on and a baby gate that primarily served to keep our dog in check. He stayed close in public spaces and would carefully assess the safety of a playground slide before taking the plunge.
My son wasn’t one to climb or leap; I could trust him to remain in front of his favorite show while I took a quick shower. With this in mind, I anticipated that our next child might need a bit more supervision but would ideally follow in her brother’s footsteps, making our lives easier once again.
That assumption was shattered on Thanksgiving 2015.
On that day, my daughter decided to embark on her crawling journey, beginning her quest for mobility with gusto. In no time, she was zipping across the room faster than I could react. It became clear that crawling and walking were merely her means of exploring a world filled with potential hazards. Our home quickly transformed into a fortress, adorned with corner cushions, cabinet locks, and anchored furniture. I even stuffed child-proof outlet covers into sockets to bolster my sense of security.
Yet, despite all these precautions, my daughter was undeterred. While some parents worry about their child choking on small toys, I found myself retrieving a pencil sharpener from her mouth. It seemed she had a knack for adventure—grabbing knives at least seven times and attempting to engage with strange dogs by tugging on their faces.
One day, as I loaded our car with essentials, I momentarily set the kids on the porch. In the time it took to place our items inside, I turned to find my son still seated, but my 15-month-old daughter was grinning in the middle of the street. She had managed to sneak past me, taking advantage of those brief seconds of silence in a life that was anything but quiet.
Having a first child certainly equips you with some knowledge for the second, yet nothing could prepare me for the stark contrast. While I had learned the logistics of diaper changes and the art of clearing a stuffy nose, my daughter’s antics rendered much of that knowledge moot. This was no longer a gentle learning curve; it felt like a Thunderdome, with my daughter at the helm, orchestrating chaos.
Instead of allowing my son the freedom to navigate a playground, I found myself hovering closely, ready to catch my daughter should she decide to leap from the highest jungle gym point. After too many close calls of her slipping from my grasp, I resorted to holding the back of her shirt as if it were a leash—an unacknowledged safety measure.
In our household, board games with small pieces have been banned after discovering colorful plastic remnants in her diapers. Mornings often consist of struggles with pantry doors, which I forget I’ve locked to keep her from raiding the dog food. Even at 20 months old, I still carry her in crowded areas—not for closeness, but to prevent her from bolting into traffic.
Parents often share how different each child can be, yet they rarely elaborate. It isn’t until you experience it firsthand that you grasp how “different” can mean one child quietly playing in a room while the other is dedicated to devising ways to send their parent into a frenzy.
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Summary:
Raising a spirited child can be a whirlwind of challenges and surprises, particularly when contrasting their temperament with an older sibling. While precautions can be taken, the unexpected nature of a wild child often leaves parents scrambling. The journey is unpredictable, but each day offers a new adventure.
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