The Youngest Child

Before you read this, pop over to 4 Kids, 20 Suitcases and a Beagle to read her lovely post about her fourth, and last, child.

It prompted me to have a think about how differently I'm raising the Little Guy here in the Expat household. Some of you will know, he's 10 and 7 years younger than his sibs and I was way too old to be birthing when I had him.

Consequently -

- he had a lot more play time with mommy, 'cause when I got down on the floor with him, I was staying there for a while.

- his bedtimes are definitely more "flexible" at the weekends, 'cause he's learned to be quiet and unobtrusive so that mom and dad will actually forget he's still up until it's almost their own bed time.

- his baby diet was superb. None of that "kid food" the other two got; I just made him a grown up dinner and mashed it. Furthermore, because the old folk were watching sodium intake and avoiding preservatives, it was indeed a healthy diet.

- sometimes he spends a little too much time in front of the TV while mom and dad attend to domestic stuff. Again, he's learned not to make a noise and sometimes we forget how long he's been staring at the screen. Contrast that with the other two, who were barely given access to the goggle box.

- he has a dog. Although the Man-Child has declared himself a cat person (just to be different) the fact that the Queenager only had a year at home when we got the dog is apparently something I will never be forgiven for. But hey - there was no way I was having a "companion" baby after the ordeal I had last time round.