Week after week, we read about the results of studies that researchers have just released.
Playing with fire can cause burns. Drinking bleach is dangerous to your health. Blondes still have more fun. And so on.
So I was hardly surprised last week when I read about new research on 21,000 people that finds firstborn children get more parental attention -- 3,000 hours more -- than their siblings. Not only that, but more quality time is spent with firstborns even as they get older.
I could have saved those researchers at Brigham Young University a lot of time and money. All they needed to do was call. I'm a second child. My brother, Gary, is three years older.
Gary had 36 months of undivided attention before I arrived on the scene. And now it's proven he got undivided attention after I arrived, too. Not that I didn't already know.
I'm not saying I was abused, ignored or left on the hillside to fend off the wolves. I'm just asking where my baby album is.
I remember cleaning out the attic with my mom a few years ago, and we came upon Gary's. There was page after page of photographs of a fat farm baby. Gary arriving home from the hospital. Gary on a blanket. Gary with his teddy bear.
I then asked where my baby album was. Mom just mumbled. She finally confessed she wasn't sure there was one.
It was then I realized what we second children have long known: To the victor go the spoils, the victor being he who arrives at the finish line first. The firstborn.
Strangely enough, Gary's whole life is finish lines. He's a successful college track coach. Big Ten champions, even.
Who knows how successful I could have been if only my parents had paid as much attention to me?
None of us has any control over when we arrive, of course. Maybe if I hadn't been fooling around wherever I was before I arrived on this planet, I would have been the first one here.
But I wasn't. I dawdled. In fact, I dawdled so long, I was even late arriving as No. 2 son.
I have come to accept my place in the pecking order. In fact, I think second place comes with certain advantages.
Since no one seems to be paying much attention to us -- all eyes on numero uno -- we get to do what we want.
We don't have to set an example. We can disappear for a while. We can even watch our older siblings and not repeat their mistakes. It helps if the older sib screws up, not that we would ever hope for that.
I have friends who are third or fourth or fifth in birth order. I'm sure there are studies about how they fit into the great scheme of things, too. Maybe they're the ones who go into show business just to get some attention. (Judy Garland was youngest of three sisters.)
All I know is that I was cuter than my brother, even if there are few photos to prove it.
I also can take solace in knowing I'll always be younger. The best revenge of all.
E-mail cwilson@usatoday.com
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