Party of one?

I am an only child. People have certain perceptions of what that says about me. Easy assumptions are that I must be selfish since I never learned how to share with siblings, or that I must be shy, since I didn’t interact with others 24/7.

No one seems to focus on the positives. Are there any?

An article from the Washington Post is written by the parent of an only child and examines the issue.

Researchers today say the only child is self-centered, lonely, maladjusted. Or perhaps self-confident, independent, accomplished. Or maybe both. I can’t say. My concern here isn’t for the “onlies”; I’m standing up for the parents who produced these little curiosities.

Only children are known to be quirky and demonstrate poor social skills. My particular only child, I am relieved to have learned from well-intentioned people after awkward pauses, is that rare exception. He doesn’t act at all like an only child, announces his teacher. He’s not selfish and spoiled, applaud my friends.

Perhaps my poor only child is simply not aware of his disadvantages and shortcomings. He thinks he’s pretty special. After all, he has no other child at home to compare himself to. No one who is better in math, more organized, plays the violin, is more popular. No one who can light up my eyes like he can. I thought it was okay to let him think he was pretty special, but maybe I need to point out more flaws to keep from spoiling him.

And who is to say that those with siblings are so much better off?

My child’s singleness, I have been told, must have an unquestionably negative effect on him. He must be selfish. After all, in his solitude he can’t learn how to share! I look around at my more reproductively successful friends. Their multiple children share what? Rooms? Clothing? Stuffed animals? No, no and no. Does one child sacrifice for his sibling? Does he eat macaroni and cheese for a month straight so both can go to overnight camp?

Issues that I haven’t dealt with are from the parent’s side. They are seen as somehow inadequate for only producing one child.

But more than the intrusive question, what troubles me is the sense that others, perhaps even myself, see me as inadequate, or selfish.

Over the years I have learned to accept my circumstance, ignore the advice, smile politely at the comments, divert the questions, maintain a sense of humor and continue to be grateful for, and enjoy, my only child.

“Put your seat belt on!” I would snap at him, rushed in the car. “You’re my only child.”

“Put your seat belt on,” he’d snap back. “You’re my only mom.”