In the middle of doing some homework, I heard a sweet little voice singing behind me. My two-year-old daughter was playing with her dolls and our cat, Huckle. “Hey, hey, look at my baby, what's she got in there? Oh, it's a cat. I love cats, kitties, meow! Cat, baby, just be gentle!” Although I was overwhelmed with warm and fuzzy feelings (it was, after all, the cutest thing I'd ever heard), I couldn't help but wonder where the spontaneous serenade came from. And then it hit me-she's an only child! She's making her own (strange) fun. As a former child-party-of-one myself, I'd like to shed some light on the situation.
It wasn't that long ago that I was someone's dependent, so I'm pretty fresh and up-to-date on childhood. I know how strange it can be. As a former only child, things got weird on a regular basis. At the time, playing school and being the teacher to an imaginary room full of students (who were constantly getting in trouble and earning fake lengthy write-offs) seemed perfectly normal. So did owning a real, working cash register so I could pretend to be a cashier. There was almost nothing bizarre about me making a fort…out of VHS tapes. And I just want to send a shout-out to my mom, who used to agree to play hide-and-seek with me a lot. The only sad part was that she never actually hid nor sought. So, I would sit for up to 15 minutes in some cramped hiding spot (usually the bathroom towel cabinet) and try to hold back my giggles as I imagined my mom was frantically searching the house for me. You can imagine how depressing and life-altering it was for me to find out she had never even left the living room. Such is the life of the only child.
I'm not knocking only children. I was an only child until I was 12, and you can tell. I'm just saying that sibling-less children might have a higher chance of turning out weird. It's sort of like solitary confinement, except you're a kid instead of a criminal, and you (hopefully) get better food, more creative wardrobe choices, and longer phone calls. These phone calls usually consist of cries of “Help!” issued to friends, neighbors, and family members who might come scoop you up and give you the opportunity to socialize with someone other than your parents. This is why children without siblings love school. It's like a big house filled with siblings that you don't even have to share your toys or living space with. This is a win-win scenario.
It's not like you're doomed to be forever alone as an only child. Next-door neighbors are a great substitute for actual siblings. My life was changed forever when a fellow eight-year-old girl moved in next door to me. She loved Barbies as much as I did (although playing “Mountain Rangers” on our bikes was a close second) and also had a pet named “Princess.” She even enjoyed playing school like me (yelling at invisible children while passing out blank printer paper). Having a best friend next door is sort of like having a sister.
As my daughter gets older and continues developing her complex personality, I see more of myself in her. That includes the weird stuff, and I love her even more for it. Being an only child means you have to be more creative to beat boredom, and I think I've learned some valuable life lessons from spending most of my childhood as an only child. Like, “Having your own room is priceless” and “More siblings equals less presents at Christmas.” Oh, and “You can't blame the broken vase on your sister when you do not have a sister.” That's a lesson I'll never forget.
Love, Mom
Debra (Fulcher) Carpenter writes when she isn't studying, or when she's procrastinating. Mostly when she's procrastinating. She is a young housewife, student, and mom. Email her at interruptedmom@gmail.com  or visit the website at www.motherinterrupted.com