My child is quite advanced: He pretends to eat brains
When you decide to go ahead and have the second kid despite the obvious lack of acknowledgment that you’re not ever going to go anywhere or be able to act like a normal person again, this part doesn’t usually come up: the three-year-old zombie who stumbles through the house moaning, “Brains! Brains!”
Sometimes, he’ll act like an adorable kittycat, as your eldest did. But, due to early exposure to six-year-olds and their rarefied interests, the rest of the time he’ll pretty much be the toddler undead. And quite good at it, actually.
I’m starting to notice that you can always spot the second-born kids on the playground at an elementary school. The first-born children, often a mile away at the more refined public parks, out of the influence of unsavory grade-schoolers, are usually politely eating their Organic Cheddar Bunnies in their free-trade, PVC-free handmade hats and being lightly admonished that “we use our words with our friends.”
Meanwhile, the younger siblings are coatless and sockless, fighting to the death with the siblings of other big kids, making the fighting scenes in “Django Unchained” look like a game of Candy Land.
Or they’re being informed by the more energetic parents that “Zombies, don’t yell! They moan, quietly.” Mainly, though, they’re being dusted off after falling off the play structure – “Oh, again?!” – and sent back up to their doom.
No worries. Zombies just keep coming back.—Jillian O’Connor