Large families are, sadly, a thing of the past. Most of the young couples I know have opted for one child, saying that this way they can give him or her all their attention as well as the best money can buy, whether it is educational opportunities or material possessions.
I realise the pressures of modern life and rising inflation have some bearing on such an important decision. And yet, even as we grew up with several siblings, having to do without certain luxuries, we were a content lot. Of course, there was grumbling when we were told we couldn't have that new dress or go on that school trip, but the regret at having to do without was short-lived.
A visit to a child minder showed me a few youngsters all under the age of nine, each an only child. They all were armed with mobile phones to enable them to keep in touch with their working parents. For the hour or so that I was there, one of them must have made around five calls to her mother who gave her a patient hearing each time. That perplexed me as I found it to be rather over-indulgent. None of the matters discussed seemed to be of an urgent nature. Perhaps the child wanted some kind of reassurance and hearing a loved one's voice might have provided this.
Common complaint
But all I could think of was the contrast such a picture provided to what we had known as kids. We were never far away from our siblings, who always seemed to be around (even when one wished them far away), preventing any feelings of insecurity. In fact, a common complaint to a parent in those days was about someone or the other "bugging" you and pleading for deliverance from this evil.
Private moments were few and far between but I don't remember ever really wishing that I were an only child, except perhaps when I was teased mercilessly and found it hard to take it in the right spirit.
A close friend, who happened to be an only child, once told me how much she envied me as I always had someone to play with and never felt lonely. This was a revelation to me and provided much fodder for thought.
It was amazing that a person who never had to share her books or toys wished she could be surrounded by noisy siblings all day long, squabbling over whose turn it was for a chore or in a game. This disclosure was an eye-opener indeed. That day I looked upon my sisters and brothers with a more benign eye for a full hour until the next bout of bullying began.
Growing up in a big family meant you got used to not being the centre of attention except on special occasions such as a birthday when sisters and brothers made an effort to be nice to you, not to pick a quarrel over the smallest thing and parents actually indulged your every wish (within reasonable demand).
One learnt to treasure such days and to make hay while the sun shone. Of course, one knew exactly where to draw the line. If one overstepped the mark, there were many to tell you exactly where to get off.
Perhaps that was a good lesson in reminding us that we weren't the centre of the universe - a view of the world which many children are unfortunate enough to grow up with, having been given the impression that what they want, they will get. When they go out into the world, they discover the painful truth that the world doesn't revolve around them. This can make for a rude awakening.
A 21-year-old I know was offered a car by his parents to mark this special milestone, a present he refused. To give him credit, he saw through the plot to wean him off his motorcycle. Hearing about this stupendous offer, I could not recall any milestone in my youth being marked with such generosity. And then I realise I don't even feel a pang of envy or regret.
