I hear that it’s hard to be the middle child.  I don’t know because I am the oldest of 3 in my family.  I can understand though, too young to have all of the privileges of the older sibling but too old to get away with not keeping up with your responsibilities.  I have tried to be aware of this unique position for our son, G.

When I was pregnant, G let me know that it was not okay to call the baby “little buddy” because that’s what we called him.  So we came up with “little peanut” as an alternative for the new baby.  It didn’t really stick, but I have respected G’s wishes and I call Baby E “sweet pea” often.  I never really realized how important silly little names we use could become.

I had always thought that G was going to be my last baby and I really soaked it up.  He was such a cuddly little baby.  You know, I rocked him before bed until he was almost 4.  I really enjoyed that cuddle time with him.  My family and my husband were starting to take issue with our cuddle times; saying that he was getting too old.  I say “boo” – I’ll rock my baby as long as I want to!  By the time he was almost 4, I started to think about him going to school soon and that maybe it was time to start weaning him away from needing to be rocked before bed.  Plus, he was starting to get too big for the both of us on that little glider rocking chair!

After Baby E arrived, I think G was feeling a little envious and asked me to rock him one night.  I was a little surprised but told him that we could.  We certainly didn’t fit as well as we used to.  His head was on my shoulder and his legs dangled off the arm of the chair.  The chair squealed in warning that if we did this too long it might break apart.  It was a wonderful time.  He just wanted to snuggle and talk about his day.  He never wants to talk about his day.  So far, he’s only asked to do this 3 or 4 times and I really cherish those times.

Recently, I was telling him that he would always be my baby.  He corrected me and told me that he was a big boy.  Yes, he is my big boy, but I could just not get him to understand the concept that he would always be my baby.  So, after much discussion.  He decided that I could call him “My Snuggle Boy” but that I could never call Baby E my snuggle boy.  On occasion, G asks me to snuggle with him on the couch. He only needs a few minutes and then he’s okay and ready to move on.  I think it’s the sweetest thing and I know that one day, he won’t want to snuggle anymore.

Obviously, our relationship is a important connection for him (me too).  I hope that I always make him feel special and loved.  He’s my baby… I mean…  My Snuggle Boy.

I love you, G!