While I was getting ready for work this morning I heard someone crying. Wimpering. It was my middle child. She woke up this morning because she had a bad dream. She dreamt that her sister had died and she was so upset. I felt so bad for her. Even though I was already late for work I stayed with her and comforted her and told her it was just a dream.
“Think of something happy,” I told her. “It’s your birthday today.”
Her response was, “Some way to start a birthday.”
Claire turns nine today. Only one more year until she hits double digits. And if she is anything like her older sister only one more year before the hormones kick in.
But she is not like her sisters. She is the middle child. The Creative one. The one that likes to be by herself and read books and play with Legos. She loves video games and Star Wars. Yet she is the peacemaker. The middle one that keeps the baby and the oldest from fighting.
When you ask her what she wants to be when she grows up she will tell you a doctor, a scientist or musician. Yesterday while watching me make her birthday cake she said she wanted to be like me when she grew up. A multi-tasker. Yes, those are her words. “Mom, how do you do it all? You are frosting a cake, watching a cooking show and making us dinner all at the same time. When I grow up I want to be like you. A mutli-tasker.”
Brought a little tear to my eye.
They say middle children act out and misbehave to try to get attention. They have to do something to stand out from the domineering older sibling and the cute baby.
Claire has her own way of standing out. She quietly does what is right, throwing in her witty humor at the most unexpected times, encouraging those around her with her actions.
She is my middle child.