There's that saying, isn't there? The first child you wrap in cotton wool, the second you let play with knives. The same definitely applies with my three children. With the first one, I sterilised every object he dropped on the floor. With the second, I just ran it under the tap. By the time, the third one came along, it was a quick wipe on the jeans.
This slightly laissez-faire ethos seems to have crept into everything - food, clothing and the time my husband and I spend with the trio.
It is only now, with our third child almost a year old, that we've realised this. The past year has been a whirlwind of chaos as we have welcomed a new baby, got our eldest into primary school, and tried to help our second child adapt to her new status as the middle child.
As each child arrives, the quantity and quality of time differ through necessity. With our eldest, I didn't work, and it was just he and I most of the day. We didn't have a helper until he was almost a year old, so we did everything together. We'd spend the morning reading through every single book he owned, spend hours patiently finishing and recompleting his wooden puzzles. We'd take long walks, pointing out every bird, creepy crawly and plane that passed us. We'd talk about fairies hiding in the trees we passed. His meals were an occasion unto themselves: he'd sit in his super-fancy high chair, bib on, waiting for his individually prepared organic meal.