Bernard O'Shea: Are you artistic, adorable and great craic? You must be the youngest child

I’ve thought about my friends and family members and conglomerated them into what can only be described as a narrow-minded study but possibly a truthful analysis of the pecking order of life.

Bernard O'Shea. Photograph Moya Nolan

Last week my middle child Tadhg said to me: “Dad, you always get Sean’s breakfast before you get mine, even though I’m always up first. You do everything for him.” 

I couldn’t argue with his frustration. I felt an overwhelming urge of déjà vu as this was an argument my own sisters constantly made about the old pecking order in the O’Shea household that the youngest was, and I quote, “spoilt”. 

I, like Sean, was the youngest too. It got me thinking about the birth order and the stereotypes accompanying them.

I took a look at the website parents.com and read Kevin Leman, PhD, a psychologist who has studied birth order since 1967 and author of The Birth Order Book: Why You Are the Way You Are. Psychologists like Dr Leman believe the secret to sibling personality differences lies in birth order and how parents treat their children differently based on whether they are the oldest, middle, youngest, or an only child.

Psychology may answer all of life’s mental and behavioural matters, but I have done my own research. 

I’ve thought about my own friends and family members and brought them into what can only be described as a narrow-minded study but possibly a truthful analysis of the pecking order of life.

The eldest

Ah, the firstborn. The natural leader of the family. The carer. The nurturer. They take control effortlessly of crises and delegate accordingly. Yet they won’t stop going on and on about how they “were the guinea pig for their parents".

In fairness, being the oldest isn’t easy. They usually get married first and have the first grandchild, while the rest of their siblings can analyse them intently and judge silently from the sidelines. It’s tough at the top but don’t worry. They’ll constantly remind you of it.

The middle child

The amateur psychologist’s favourite. The middle child is often known as the peacemaker. They are inevitably stuck in the middle and often forgotten. 

They are the bass player in every band that sits in the background, happy to keep the rhythmic pulse of the family going without adulation. For them, a regular saying is “I’m grand” or “Ah sure, don’t worry about me”. 

I’d bet that the middle child is most people’s best friend. 

They are also the most dependable and will never let you down. You can always spot a middle child on a night out. They are the ones that don’t get upset when someone spills a pint on them and doesn’t mind sharing their chips with you while they are the last ones dropped home in the taxi. But Christ on a bike, they will tell you about it. 

Deep down, they know they pulled the short straw, and no matter what they do, they can never overcome the unfair attention lavished on the eldest. But then there’s the one sibling they DO EVERYTHING FOR. May I introduce you to …

The youngest

Let’s cut straight to the chase. The youngest is the most loved child. They are the apple of everyone’s eye. The most adorable, the most cuddly, the most craic, the most of everything. 

They rarely get sick and make everyone laugh, not cry. Look at any family photo. You can always spot the youngest not because they are the smallest but because they are the happiest. 

Their parents are holding directly towards the camera as if to say, “this is one we are most proud of. It took us a few goes, but we’re finished now because we have spawned the perfect human being.”

I know this to be true because I’m the youngest in our family. The youngest generally is the artistic one in the family. Not because they have any more or less creative flair than their sibling but because their parents told them to do whatever made them happy as opposed to the rest of the family who was told to study, get a real job and get out of the house. 

Yet everyone is oblivious to why the youngest is the most doted upon. The reason? Your first children, you are nervous as hell. Terrified that the exact measure of Calpol is administered. 

You worried that you were not getting them to do enough. You essentially worried about them all the time. But on the last one, you have all the experience without worry. You know a cough is just a cough and it’s normal for them to fall now and again.

However, wherever you fall in the pecking order of life, it’s important to remember something my Mum always says: “I have no favourites; I love all the exact same.” 

But if push came to shove … all I’m saying is that I might be 43, but I’m still the baby of the family.