Second Child: An Adorable Menace?

We all know kids like to play pretend, morphing into dinosaurs or the Paw Patrol and mine are no exception. One day in the car, my two boys were talking about being superheroes, and I heard Simon say to Noah: “Me not a superhero, me just Simon.” I would soon become familiar with this phrase as Simon doesn’t get too far into a game of spooky ghost before reminding you that it’s really him under the blanket.

When Simon was first born, I couldn’t get over how closely he resembled Noah. They had the same snub nose (sorry, guys), the same full lips, and the same red hair. I also noticed a similar disposition through his first month of life. (Okay, all babies are the same at this point). I think I was so intent on seeing how they were alike (call it wishful thinking since Noah has always been calm, thoughtful, well-behaved) that I was willfully ignoring the differences.

I imagine this is an instinct for all parents who have a second child. You think, same genetics, same environment, same parenting style, so why wouldn’t these kids turn out the same?

I’ll leave it to someone else to get into the nature vs. nurture debate. And oh, wouldn’t it make my parenting life so much easier if they were? There’s nothing we fear more than the unknown.

And yet there is one key variable: the older sibling. 

Simon idolizes Noah, as most younger siblings do (I can say that as a younger sibling myself), and we have no shortage of moments where Simon wants to be just like his big brother, but in the end, he wants to be himself more. Simon is nearly three now, and although I have gotten used to the idea that these are, in fact, two entirely different humans, I still catch myself feeling surprised at just how different they truly are.

My husband and I call Simon (not in his presence, I’m a teacher, so I’m well-versed in fixed mindsets and the way the language can become a self-fulfilling prophecy) an adorable menace or, my favorite moniker, the Simonster.

When there’s a rare silence in the house, you might find Noah watching videos on his iPad, sorting his Pokémon cards, or coloring. On the other hand, Simon will be tearing the cover off of books, stuffing toilet paper into the bowl, or dumping the entire container of milk into my just-made pancake batter. And while my initial (internal) response is “WHYYYY?” or worse, “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” (a refrain I’m sure was tossed around in my four-child household growing up), when I step back, I can see Simon a little more clearly.

First, Simon loves to do things himself. While Noah will wait for me to pick out his clothes or even bring the forkful of food to his mouth, Simon has already taken over those tasks and more.

He also loves to be helpful and is highly attuned to others’ needs. (I came back from a run the other morning, and he brought me a glass of water while I stretched). So, when he saw that I needed milk for my batter, he took it upon himself to add it. 

And the toilet paper? He’s potty-training, and he’d just gone all by himself. When I arrived, he pointed proudly to the toilet, handed me the plunger, and said, “You need this, Mama.” Finally, book destruction is usually something he does when he’s bored or can’t fall asleep or wants attention. 

Where Noah revels in praise for a job well-done (classic first child, right?) Simon wants to make sure we see him. As much as his actions can make me angry or exasperated, I sense that he wants to remind me that he’s not a Simonster; he’s just Simon.