Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Middle child syndrome, alive and well

Look at that kid. Tell me he won't be breaking hearts once puberty hits the opposite gender. When he grows that summer buzz out, his curly hair is a deal breaker.

Needless to say, he is completely oblivious to it.

Connor was looking over my shoulder as I wrote my last little entry about Olivia. He laughed when he read it. Then he looked at me and said, "have you written anything about me?"

Come to think of it, no, I haven't. I wrote about his hamster, but that's about it so far. I was going to write about Griffin, and how I helped him cook dinner for the first time last night. I've also thought about starting a second blog about having a child with nonverbal learning disorder, which Griffin has. But, no, I haven't written anything in particular about Connor yet.

The reason is pretty symbolic of Connor's quiet but significant place in our family. He hasn't said anything offbeat, or sassy, or inappropriate lately. He isn't dramatic, and he doesn't demand your attention. He doesn't have any special issues at school, other than, oh, being in ALP (advanced learning placement) math. He follows the rules, respects his parents, and does his chores without being told. He's our middle child, and he is, quite simply, a good kid.

And apparently the punishment for being a good kid is that you don't get written about in mom's blog, because mom doesn't need to unload about you, and you don't draw inordinate amounts of attention to yourself.

Larry and I have regular discussions about our quiet giant. Yes, if he had the slightest interest in sports, he could dominate as a swimmer, basketball player, you name it. But he doesn't - he is gentle as a kitten. And he's smart as a whip. But we worry that he sometimes gets lost in the chaos.

All of our children are so very special in dramatically different ways. Connor's way is just so quiet, and sometimes powerful, that I have to watch extra close for the most subtle signs that he's feeling left out, or bullied, or angry, or happy, or proud, so that I can create an opportunity for him to express himself.

Look closely at that picture - because that's one not-so-little boy who will do great things one day.


Anonymous said...

I am sitting her all misty because its all true.


shortstack said...

Robyn, you write beautifully and I feel like I know him better just by reading that.