As I sit here and take in our bustling home, I feel compelled to write you this heartfelt apology. Your parents are definitely running on empty, if you haven’t noticed. Your older siblings have drained our energy, leaving us to bring you our “B” game. There was a time when we enforced bedtime like clockwork, limited PB&J to special occasions, and made sure every movie was family-friendly. But those parents seem to have vanished with the arrival of your siblings.
Instead, your life is a delightful chaos. The older kids often stay up late, and so do you. Just last night, I found you snoozing on the couch at 10 p.m. while Star Wars played on the screen. It made me stop and think—shouldn’t you be in bed? But honestly, we were too tired to carry you upstairs. Instead, I snuggled with you, took a moment to admire those adorable eyelashes. At five, I know I should’ve stopped doing that with your siblings long ago, so I apologize. I can’t help but hold onto your babyhood just a little longer. You seemed perfectly content as you nestled into my arms until Dad finally scooped you up for a quick stop in your bed before you crept into ours.
I also want to apologize for the small army of siblings that tends to hover over you. I realize that while your older siblings only had me and Dad to guide them, you have a whole crew watching your every move. It must be quite overwhelming to be parented by six different people! They adore you—their sweet little brother—so much that they can hardly let you out of their sight.
By the time you turned two, your feet barely touched the ground with all the arms that carried you around. Now, there’s always someone eager to hold your hand or help you reach the cotton candy I hide on top of the fridge. You are the center of attention, and I can see that the “too much love” you mentioned is a real thing. What’s a little one to do?
I apologize for your wardrobe, too. While your older siblings had curated outfits, you’ve got a selection of hand-me-downs mixed with a few Target finds. Sometimes, I even find remnants of old Halloween costumes in the mix! And, truth be told, I’m often too worn out to argue when you want to wear your football uniform to school, so off you go in your ensemble.
We’re slowly working on you learning to put your shoes on by yourself, but with so many helpers around, I’ve realized that parenting isn’t a race. It doesn’t matter when you master tying your shoes—what matters is that you’re happy and (mostly) dressing yourself. You often look quite dapper, especially in that Willy Wonka outfit your sister gifted you for Christmas, so perhaps I should consider your wardrobe a win after all.
I’m also sorry that you know all the lyrics to “Baby Got Back” and have a favorite episode of The Office. Admittedly, we’ve relaxed our standards on what you watch and listen to. In a way, you’re living the retro life—just like we did in the ’80s, watching our parents’ soap operas. On the bright side, you’ll probably be the coolest kid at lunch, unlike your oldest sister, who didn’t even know who the Kardashians were in seventh grade. I apologize in advance if your classroom discussions land you in the principal’s office; I might even come to take the blame!
You are our little caboose, our final child, our grand finale. The wonderful news is that the one thing we haven’t exhausted is our love for you. We’ve learned so much from your older siblings about how fleeting these moments are, how quickly you will grow, and how important it is to cherish every second. So when we hug you a little too tightly, let you linger in your littleness just a bit longer, and shower you with love, know that it comes from the depths of our hearts. You will grow up surrounded by affection and hopefully, the endless supply of PB&Js (and sometimes ice cream), the slightly inappropriate TV shows, and those inconsistent bedtimes will be smoothed over by the fact that you are the most loved child in our lives.
With all our love,
Your exhausted but adoring parents