Being a big brother does not mean he has stopped being my baby

Every now and then, I find myself forgetting that my seven-year-old is still my little baby. This occurred to me during a simple scenario: standing in line for a takeaway meal with him. As he's now the older sibling, he takes on the role of a big brother, a responsibility he carries out remarkably well. However, they continue to share their typical sibling dynamics - playing together, fighting, chasing each other around the house, irritating one another, and then becoming best friends again within minutes.

While I may scold him from time to time, "Leave your brother alone!" they soon return to laughing together, as if nothing had happened.

Yet, my eldest has assumed a more responsible role - dressing himself, expressing his needs, and assisting his younger brother. Given his brother's age, he often requires more attention, and I inadvertently began expecting my seven-year-old to act more like a grown-up, being the "big boy" who can handle things independently. When our previously mentioned younger sibling needed more care, I've found myself looking at my older child as if he's suddenly stopped being my baby.

This realization hit me during our takeaway queue, when I asked him, "How much do you love Mommy?" He responded with fervor, "So much, Mommy!" stretching his arms wide.

In that moment, I observed an opportunity and challenged him to dance with me, eliciting laughter from him. He rejected my dance invitation but had already grasped my hands and begun dancing with me in the midst of our wait. He laughed uncontrollably, perhaps both embarrassed and delighted by his mother's humorous antics. Though he laughed, I noticed his face - not the big brother, the second-grader, or the young individual I continuously remind to pack his belongings, complete his tasks, assist me quickly, or stop bothering his sibling.

After our impromptu dance performance, we resumed our wait and started playing "rock-paper-scissors." As the stories intertwined, I simply listened, fully absorbed in his excitement. I experienced those challenging yet beautiful moments of motherhood. Although seven seems like a big age with a two-year-old sibling nearby, it's not big when he's still learning about friendships, disappointment, confidence, feelings, and the world around him.

He still requires reassurance, silliness, and most importantly, my motherly touch - like dancing with him in a takeaway line.

I occasionally feel that we inadvertently push our eldest children too soon when a new baby joins the family, expecting them to be more mature because they can handle more responsibilities. My boy loves being a big brother, but being someone's big brother doesn't mean he stopped being my baby. The seemingly insignificant moment at the takeaway queue reminded me of this truth.

Therefore, I intend to continue expecting him to grow, learn, and become independent, while also remembering to meet him where he is. A seven-year-old is still figuring out life, wants my attention, and stretches his arms wide to show me how much he loves me. And he's still young enough to laugh uncontrollably as his mother unexpectedly starts dancing with him in a public setting. For now, I will dance, my boy. Mommy is holding onto these moments for as long as you'll allow me.