Dear Oldest Child:

Sometimes when mommy’s frisky

And dad’s not watching porn

They send you on a playdate

And another kid is born.

This new kid is a baby,

Just a lump of hungry fat

That cries and poops and sleeps a lot

And not much more than that.

Luckily for the species

But not luckily for you

That baby will get bigger

And eventually turn two.

At this point, the parents

Who loved you when you were little

Will downgrade you, unknowingly,

To the meanest second fiddle.

They’ll love all over new kid

Because, sadly, the fact is

As the oldest child you are

The one on which they’ll practice.

You will need to get straight A’s…

New kid will soar on C’s.

You will beg for any love…

New kid will just say “please.”

Yes, this seems unfair to you

But someday you will see

That this kid turns invisible

When mom has baby 3.

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Filed under Poems

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