Just consider the circumstantial evidence. Child number two. More often than not you have to wear your older sibling's clothes and when you get a cutie photoshoot there's always some other kid shoving (or being shoved) into the photo alongside you. Did you ever get a baby book when you were little? Nope. Did number one? You know it! All your toys are second-hand and when Mummy gets them down from the attic the chances are that some other kid will come along and carry them off before you get an opportunity to play with them. See what I mean? Hard.
Then there's all those mega-unmissable, super-important milestones: first tooth, first word, first steps. Number one gets attention minute by minute to the hyper-limit. "Hey! Look! He's walking!" "Listen! He said this!" "See that? Quick write it down!" With number two it's all a case of 'Seen It All Before'. Write it down? Nah! Too busy. Memories? What are those? Personal attention? What's that?
Just read this story from last week and you'll see what I mean. Family goes out for a day to a show; horses, stalls, lots of big tents, cows, pigs, sheep, dogs, etc, etc. You name it, it was there. People were there too, lots of them, crowds of them, thousands of them. Both boys were allowed to walk but they took a pushchair for the little one. Let him stretch those chubby little legs. Yeah, until he wanted to go one way and everyone else wanted to go another, then it was, "heave-ho into the pushchair with you, son"! They let him out to look at some sheep and ducks. Child number one roamed free. Child number two got shoved back in the pushchair again. Pigs? Couldn't see 'em - pen sides were too high to see over. Goats? Had a quick look - quick, quick, the older kid wants to see the donkeys. Cows? Can't reach 'em - pushchair can't get close enough. Other kid gives them a nice pat. Then hours of being stuck in a pram being pushed over bumpy grass with hundreds of strange legs pushing past on every side. Child number one gets treated to a ice drink and a new hat. Child number two stays put. No choice. Stuck. Confined. Can't get out. Moan, moan. 'Here have a dummy and quit wailin'.' Oh man...
Yup it's tough being number two.
|"Hey little brother! Did you see that?" "Glub, glub." "What?"|
|"OK, OK. Just talk to the hand. This face ain't listenin'."|
|"Glub? Mubble mubble?" "Look, just don't talk! I give up! OK?"|
Yup, it's tough being number one.
On the other hand...
With reference to the story above, guess who had to give kid number one a piggy back when he got too tired to walk?
Yup, it's tough being a Dad too.
And who had to push the pram all that long and weary way? A pram additionally weighed down with all the bags and other clobber that kids entail?
Let's just say that there weren't any shirkers...