Parenting at a young age

We have two boys. One will be nine and the other will be five this summer. My wife had the first when she was 19 and I was 20. We were merely children ourselves back then, but had enough of a jump on him to try and keep him guessing. It's worked so far, but he is gaining ground quickly. When we had our first, we couldn't even get drunk (in a bar). Probably best that way. A stiff drink (or two) might have made it way to easy to go to sleep at night when he was screaming to be fed or just to be screaming and needed someone to, do, something. My wife and I decided early that two children was fair considering we both came from a family of three kids. It was agreed on my part merely because I felt the youngest or third child made me (the oldest) null and void and let's face it, one child per parent is plenty. I didn't see it that way when I was a child, so I felt there had to be a better way to set a family. This was my solution. I could have been wrong.

We miscalculated one thing in our equation. The youngest child. Our family is a youngest child's nightmare. Let me explain. My wife is an oldest child of three girls. No prior knowledge of boys before me. I am the oldest of three. Mitchell, is our oldest and the oldest child in his own right. Isaac, my youngest, has it pretty rough. I try to accomidate him but find myself fighting my natural instincts as an oldest child. This picture painted now? Poor kid, right? You better believe it. Let's go deeper into this one...

To be continued...