One day in college, I opened my apartment door to a lovely surprise visit from my mom and grandmother. In their arms, white boxes tied with string and flowers. They’d come to celebrate my birthday. I remember being surprised, delighted and taking the visit in stride, as happy to get back to my studies and reading the next day as I was to spend time with them and accept their gifts. Later, my roommate, a dear friend with five siblings and step-siblings, sniffed, “God, it’s like they were bringing gifts to the baby Christ child.” I had no idea what she was talking about—didn’t every family do this sort of thing for their kids?
As it turns out, no. When you’re the only child, like me, you get a lot of attention, which according to the cliché I grew up hearing, makes you spoiled, selfish and sort of annoying. I’ve always just accepted that label, the way I accepted how my short legs don’t make me the fastest runner. But now that birth order theory is everywhere, prompting dialogue around how people parent, spend money and show affection (birth order love language, anyone?), I wonder—what if everything I thought I knew about being an only child was wrong? Also, since the birth rate in many countries including the U.S. is declining (though the number of single births has stayed steady), I wonder: Are all these only children like me a cause for alarm? I found a highly credentialed family psychologist, Kathy Hirsh-Pasek, to give me the latest learnings on the matter.