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It’s funny the things you do with your first child that sometimes slides a bit with your second.  I was just thinking about this the other day while I was driving with just Carter and had a CD with nursery rhyme songs on it playing.  I was thinking about how he is a little over two, and we rarely sing nursery rhymes.  He doesn’t know about Humpty Dumpty or Jack and Jill.  He couldn’t tell you about Little Miss Muffet or Little Boy Blue.  But Brayden had those all nearly memorized at that age.  And today I pulled out some finger paints and realized that this may have been the first time that I painted with Carter.

And then we painted.  And I thought to myself that this may be the last time we paint.  I’m just kidding, but really, it was a mess in five minutes flat.

The experiences we have with our first children are much different than the subsequent ones.  But that doesn’t mean that our second born (or third or fourth or nineteenth) doesn’t get a quality childhood experience.  It’s just different, that’s all.  Carter experiences some things that Brayden definitely didn’t at his age.  I have to remind myself that different is okay–and feeling guilty about it isn’t going to change the face that Carter doesn’t know his nursery rhymes.  In the grand scheme of life, I think we’re gonna be okay.