Chronicle of a mother: is the “little” still a child?

“Children, come and eat!” “. Since their birth we have been in the habit of calling the twins “babies”. Except that today they are turning 3 and those around me are starting to be surprised by this name. It’s true that it’s a bit ridiculous. They have long since passed famous milestone of 1000 days and recently that of 3 years. They speak better and better and have definitively abandoned diapers and pacifiers. We should place the turning point on the day when the child tells you one Saturday morning when you wake up: “Stop talking, la. your mouth smells bad.”

The “child of illusion”

If they are no longer children in the physiological, medical, psychological sense, I nevertheless still consider them children, this is certainly the fate of the last ones. The youngest remains eternally in our eyes the little one of the family, the one we cuddle, the one we don’t want to let grow up and who probably structures his personality. Adored, he will always seek approval in the eyes of others. “So many people loved me, everyone should love me.” A mixture of pride and lack of self-esteem.

A study published in the journal Current Biology confirms this phenomenon. 740 mothers answered a questionnaire and had to write on a white wall the height they thought their children were (aged 2 to 6). Well, the height of the “youngest” is underestimated in 70% of cases even if parents are able to accurately indicate the height of the eldest. The researchers called this effect “the infant illusion.” According to them, this “illusion” could be beneficial because it would encourage parents to pay more attention to their child. The study’s findings may also lend credence to the idea that birth order helps shape personality, at the risk of labeling it.

Connections evolve, nothing is set in stone

In my case, having two other children aged 11 and 12, I clearly perceive the gap in the manifestation of my feelings between the older and the younger ones. I love them just as much, there’s no argument, but I think this love translates differently. With the “child”, or with what we consider such, there is an evident physical closeness, a carnal contact, the fact of always wanting to kiss him, smell him, bite his belly, his feet, love the smell of the sweat of his head and a wet neck. Scientists have shown that the smell of their baby stimulates the same areas of the brain in mothers that are activated when we eat our favorite foods. There’s also this wonder that I struggle to describe when I watch them sleep or see them come in with disheveled heads after waking up from a nap. I could cite a thousand examples of situations in which I feel overwhelming and irrational love. And my phone is full of these photos that I take at the slightest opportunity.

At what age do our children stop being the miniature humans that delight us?

Once again, my teenagers also move me, but it’s not the same. I’m tactile with them, I like to hold them, but no, I don’t want to smell their head or their feet. God forbid. Spontaneously I would place this transition between 5 and 8 years. It’s progressive, we don’t realize it. The last diaper, the last bottle, the last pacifier, the last dried poop, the last hair rinsed, the last story, the last doliprane in a pipette… and one day the key in the lock of the house and in the bedroom door what a slap. The sweet separation, the bond of dependence that diminishes without warning.

I feel melancholy

This morning I kept telling myself that I wasn’t filming them enough, because I wanted to leave traces of their childish voices, their distorted words and their incongruous thoughts. And laughter, especially laughter. Because we forget everything, absolutely everything. Because one day they will no longer call me in the evening to ask me for yet another kiss, yet another hug. The cord is cut, and nature is well done, because we don’t even suffer. But I still wonder how it is possible that our children could become so distant when we were so close. The last ones are our children forever, I believe, we cannot let them go, even if the fusion is no longer there.

In this regard, I share with you the beautiful post by @papaplume: “One day we will both sit on the sofa, and the house will be calm, tidy, silent”