The Trouble With Growing Up

I've heard that when a new baby is born older siblings (especially ones who are close in age to the infant) often revert back to “baby” behaviors. Apparently, this phenomenon extends to pretty much everything in the older sibling’s daily life. Kids who are potty trained will suddenly become “untrained” and want to wear diapers again. Big kid beds are abandoned and many a newborn is squashed when an older brother or sister decides to reclaim the crib. The list goes on and on.

A year ago, when we were expecting the birth of our second child, I was mildly concerned at how Elijah (not quite 22 months old at the time) would react. Most behaviors I figured I could handle him reverting back to, but there was one baby-ism that I absolutely did not want Lij to pick up again… breastfeeding.

That’s right – some older sibs will actually climb right up on Mom’s lap during lunchtime and push the new baby out of the way to get to the good stuff. Articles I’d read on the subject just said to go ahead and give it to them. They’d eventually realize it was hard work and give up on their own. My thought – yikes!!!

Though it may work for some (and I don’t begrudge them their parenting strategies), the thought of hoisting a toddler up on my lap for a nibble – especially if they’re capable of asking for said nibble verbally – has always just freaked me out. I was therefore overjoyed when Dylan’s advent failed to motivate Elijah into reinstating “Milk of Mama” on his menu. And all in all, we got away with adding another child to our family fairly easily. Until…

I came downstairs today after putting Dylan down for a nap and found Lij standing in front of an open fridge. I asked what he was doing and he slyly poked his head around the door. He was drinking right out of the milk carton. The whole milk carton. The baby’s milk carton.

Although Lij has been drinking skim milk for almost a year now (and we haven’t heard any complaints), apparently having Dylan start in on the “good stuff” was just too much for the little guy. He would be deprived no longer and was taking matters into his own hands. I laughed, put the carton back in the fridge and told him we drink from a glass (in that order).

Several hours passed before I really began to contemplate the event. Should I, I wondered, be insulted by what had happened? After all, Lij wasn’t prompted to sample my milk again upon seeing the baby happily guzzle away. But he just couldn’t resist a swig of the whole-fat, from-the-carton kind after we offered that to Dylan (who promptly and repeatedly spit it out, I might add).

I decided that under the circumstances – we are talking about a child who gave up nursing voluntarily at nine months of age – I should just be happy with how things are turning out. It could be a lot worse. And if nothing else, it’s nice to know that my little guy’s not in too much of a hurry to grow up.