Second baby slobdom

It’s not that I care for Erin any less than her big brothers. But child number three (or four or five) is required to muck in – literally – with an already lively household. And my daughter seems as happy twiddling her brothers’ Duplo bricks as they used to be, while gazing at the hand-painted seahorse mobiles we’d constructed from papier mâché.

In the past, fellow first-timers and I would huddle in corners at toddler groups and fret that our infants weren’t being stimulated enough. I met one woman whose two-year-old was regularly whisked from painting class to music group to tea with friends (where, no doubt, they would fashion an entire menagerie of home-cooked Play-doh animals). Another mother used to lay out an array of interesting objects to greet her child every time he woke from his nap. No wonder she barely had time to go to the toilet.

So yes, it’s a relief not to strive for perfection. I have opted out of the great parenting race (Whose child will be first to crawl/take steps/recite the Cyrillic alphabet?). And you know what? No one has told me off. I see no wagging finger of disapproval when, at bath time, a varied assortment of crumbs is discovered nestling down the front of Erin’s vest.

Parents often report that second and subsequent children are more easy-going than their first. A result of a slob-mother attitude, or mere coincidence? Perhaps babies simply like being allowed to lick banana porridge from their sleeves. Mind you, with a mother-in-law like mine around, she’ll have to be quick about it.