In his book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, the author Stephen Covey shares a story that I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. 

He recounts an evening he spent with his two sons. They went to the movies, grabbed hot dogs, hung out and had fun. During the movie, his younger son (four at the time) fell asleep. So, Stephen took off his jacket and placed it over him to keep him warm. 

When they got home that night, Stephen put his elder son (eight at the time) to bed. He asked his son what parts of the evening he had enjoyed the most, expecting him to animatedly recount all the highlights. He didn’t. Instead, his son was distant. Detached.  

Sensing something wasn’t quite right, Stephen got to work. After some sensitive probing, the son eventually opened up and said, ‘Daddy, if I were cold, would you put your coat around me too?’ 

Despite all the fun they enjoyed together as a family that night, this was the most important moment in the older brother’s mind: an act of kindness his dad showed his younger brother that made him feel jealous, embarrassed and vulnerable. 

This reminds us that all people – of any age, of any background, of any creed – are tender, fragile beings on the inside. Regardless of what exterior armour they choose to wear. 

I bring it up now because my two sons share a similar age gap to Stephen’s. The other day, my eldest asked me why I picked up his seventeen-month-old brother so much and not him.  

The question caught me off guard. 

He’s also having a hard time adjusting to the fact that I can throw the smaller, lighter child higher into the air and for longer periods.  

I could so easily say to my eldest, ‘Come on now, you’re the older, bigger brother. You know why this is the case,’ and shrug the whole thing off. 

But I don’t do that. He might be the elder child, but he’s still a child. Of course, it must be hard to watch his parents split their attention between him and a screaming toddler.  

If only he realised how hard it is for us too. Personally, I rank splitting my attention between my boys as one of my toughest parenthood challenges. 

So what did I do? The only thing I could.  

I tensed my core and almost put my back out throwing him up in the air. Next, we hung out and played with Lego. Because in that moment, that was the job: to show him that he’s loved beyond measure and that that will never change, and that I will always find time for him even if it can’t always be on his terms. 

Because he is, and I will.  

He just needed a reminder. 

Because we all need that from time to time. 

Even if we pretend we don’t.