I have only one child at the moment.
One getting-closer-to-three-than two-year old boy and that is it.
So this is what it’s like to only have one child?
Dinner and bed time are over and done with so quickly. And it’s quiet… really quiet.
Tonight I think I finally, really really, understand when people say it is harder to go from one child to two, than from two to three… or more.
Sitting eating dinner with a little chatting in between bouts of silence was odd to say the least. It is never silent at our dinner table… it hasn’t been since the moment the girls were old enough to be awake at that time of day. That’s almost six years of dinner table noise, which is, for the most part, lovely, but very very noticeable when it’s gone.
With one there has been more choices and options. Two adults to read bed time stories, two available to brush teeth and tuck into bed. There is no one else to take turns choosing the car music, no one to knock down your block construction or tell you ‘you can’t play’.
There is also less laughter, and less cuddles and no big sisters to tell you they love you ‘more than any other boy they know’. There is no older child to fill up drinks for me, and no excuse to begin the next chapter of the Fairy Realm book.
I can’t imagine how odd it would be to suddenly go from one child to two. I just can’t fathom it…. It must be almost as odd as going from three to one has been for me.
The girl’s have been at their grandparent’s for two nights now. This is possibly the last time I will experience the only child thing for a long… long… long time. We are enjoying it, Muski and me, but I think we’ll also be glad when the girls come home on Wednesday.