Another Way: Scrapping for position and other true stories

It’s not every day that your 3-year-old grandson writes your column for you.

First of all, I identify with him as the third child in my family — of the same gender: I was the third girl. He was the third boy in his family. We also had three daughters, so our youngest daughter also knows a little about disappointing parents just a smidge by not coming through as a child of a differing gender.

We loved our family of three little ones but a parent has only two sides to their body. Someone is left out in that savored seat next to a parent, especially after they are all a bit too big to be lap-sitters.

The other evening my daughter’s youngest boy, Edward, was edging for his share of the space and declared to an older brother, “Henry! Give me persomal [sic] space!” (That’s the way this 3-year-old pronounced “personal.” They’ve been talking about it in his preschool.)

His momma said, “He was pushing his way onto my lap. It was ‘vintage Doreen’ scrapping for position.” Doreen is our third daughter.

Actually, I don’t remember feeling or wishing I could be the oldest. There’s a lot of pressure on the oldest to do well, to excel, to pave the way.

Two years ago I put together a booklet of stories just for my grandsons, reminding them that once upon a time their mommies were little too.

And sometimes, wonderful things happen. Like the time our oldest, Michelle was supposed to go to a fancy banquet with mommy. She was excited to be so grown up! We stayed in a hotel in a city two hours away, with a bunch of other women. When Michelle was getting dressed for the banquet, she discovered I'd mistakenly packed an outgrown pair of dress shoes she had recently handed down to her sister.

Michelle bravely tried to pinch her feet into the “Sunday shoes.” I told her she’d just have to wear them anyway. She pushed the shoes on and limped to the bathroom. They really hurt. She looked sad. I felt like Michelle was one of Cinderella’s stepsisters, and I was the evil stepmother. “Oh well,” I finally said. “Just wear your old tennis shoes.” We had a marvelous time at the grown-up party and when I apologized to our tablemates, one woman said “I’m sure her feet are more comfortable than mine!”

One year, our church decided to send children to summer camp. Our middle daughter Tanya’s turn came first — she was only 7 years old. An overnight camp all by herself! We were a little worried but tried not to show it. Would Tanya be ok? Would she cry?

Then Tanya told us she didn’t want to go after all. I said something like, “That’s natural. Everyone is afraid of doing something the first time.” But I worried. Would she make friends?

Then I reminded her, “When you come home, you’ll be the first in our family to go to camp and tell your older sister all about it!”

Tanya made new friends and for once she got to do something before her big sister.

Finally, a story about our youngest. Her big sisters already went to real school in second grade and kindergarten. Sometimes it wasn’t fun to be the last born in the family, but she really dreaded being the last one picked up at nursery school. One day she reminded me, “Remember, I don’t want to be picked up last today!”

That day at work I was very very busy. Suddenly I looked at the clock. Ten minutes ‘til 12. Would I make it? I drove as fast as I could (under speed limit) and got there with three minutes to spare. There in the back of the room were a couple children still putting on coats and hats. Doreen was by herself, looking very lonely. Then Doreen’s face lit up when she saw me. Oh was she ever happy.

As we make space for others in our lives, remember everyone wants to feel special, wanted, loved.

I’d love to hear your kid stories! Send to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834. Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.