Being a Middle Child

I mentioned, in an earlier post, that I was the fourth of seven children.

Do you know where that puts me?

Smack-dab in the middle of the pack.

This can be great! …It can also be extremely frustrating.

I’m sure you know the stereotypes; oldest children are responsible and mature, youngest spoiled and bratty, and…yup, that’s it! Wait…oh, yeah! Middle children? Sorry, forgot about them.

Mmkay, this isn’t really true. Middle children are definitely noticed. Oldest children aren’t always responsible, and youngest aren’t ALWAYS spoiled brats.

But, there are some things I’ve noticed, being the middle child.

I’ve got two sides squishing me in; like a kid sandwich. I have to look out for the three kids below me, but, at the same time, listen to what the older three say.

It’s not so bad now; the two oldest have moved out. But, even then, my older brother who’s still at home seems to think he gets to dictate to me all the time. The two youngest kids run away from the chores. Guess who that leaves to work? Why, me and the oldest of my younger brothers, of course.

Okay, that’s not ENTIRELY fair. That makes it sound like I’m Cinderella and the rest of my family is an evil step-family. That’s not true.

The rest of my family helps; my Mom and Dad do more than all of us kids combined. The other kids help…when Mom makes them. And it’s not like I’m a selfless martyr who always goes straight to work. I need to be forced into it. A lot, actually.

So, do I REALLY have a right to complain? Not really. I’ve got a great family.

So, I won’t complain. But, I will say one last thing: being a middle child is great. I have amazing siblings on each side of me and two great parents up top.

And that’s why being the middle child is the most underrated of all positions on the sibling ladder.

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