Birth Order

Just last week I noticed that my five year old has her first loose tooth. A very loose tooth. Two in fact. But one is really and truly just hanging by a thread. So when I went to check it's progress last night, I was pleasantly surprised how just how ready it has become to come out. "Lexy!" I exclaimed. "That tooth is going to fall out any minute!" To which she replied with great wailing. And I don't mean a happy kind of wailing. I mean a terrified, horrified and downright upset kind of wailing. Oops. I didn't know that she was fearful about her first tooth falling out. What would you call that? Tooth-fall-out-aphobia? Anyway, she is just so completely scared about her tooth falling out. (Dare I say that there will be no chance at all that daddy will be pulling this one out?)
Anyway, it just cracks me up the differences in my children...and I think much has to do with the order in which they were born. I really do. You see, when our first baby girl came along, everything was about her. I checked her teeth religiously so I knew when she had her first loose tooth. Every little ache or pain was pampered, and everything was a big deal. Hmmm....no wonder those first children tend to act like the world revolves around them. (Can I get an "amen?") The second one? Well, the good Lord knew that she would have to be happy go lucky. 'Cause momma was still having to cater to the needs of the demanding first born. Yes, the needy child that we in fact created that way. The good thing about the middle child is that since the first one demands so much time and attention, the second one tends to be extremely creative with imagination and often entertains themselves. Jillian is so easy going that she probably didn't even notice that she had her first loose tooth until it was sitting on her nightstand, waiting for the tooth fairy. No kidding. You just have to know Jillian to get that one. I absolutely love her slightly ditsy personality. (I like to call it "easy going"...it sounds much better than "ditsy"...) And then comes the baby. Ah, yes, the baby. They earn that title well, because as parents we tend to let them do "baby things" the longest. We allow them more whining, and carry them around on our hips until their legs are dragging on the ground. I know all this first hand. Guilty as charged. I am trying hard to turn from my weakened maternal instincts and raise her as "not the baby", to treat her more like her big sisters. (Don't you dare think for one minute that they don't use those "baby ways" as a manipulation tool! They're cute, and they know it. And they're not afraid to use it.) So, when she broke into tears after I was so excited to tell her that her tooth will fall out soon, I just had to chuckle. She truly is the baby. And probably always will be, to some extent. She can't help it....it's her birth order, right? At least I'm sure that's what she'll say (and no doubt psychologists will agree) in the years to come.