The Eaglet (Jeffrey)

by Donna Hruska

Listen to Donna narrate this story!

When Jeffrey first came to us he looked like nothing so much as a scrawny, big-eyed baby bird. His plump, rosy, infinitely feminine twin sister, Jennifer, weighed only two ounces more than he, yet we could not see where he put his half of their combined weight. It certainly was not taken up in excess padding. Every rib on his frame showed. Her dominance extended into behavior as well as appearance. She was more aggressive and spectacular, doing everything first, and though he was never far behind, his accomplishments were less flamboyant and received less attention than hers.

We tried to see that they were treated equally, but the fact that she was the first girl in a large family of boys coupled with her natural charm made other people unconsciously pay more attention to her.

To add to his difficulties, in his third year, Jeffrey developed asthma, which only made him less attractive and more of a clinging mama’s boy than he already was. About the same time another little sister arrived and his position in the family looked worse than ever. It was so easy to say the three big boys and the three little children, grouping him with the two girls.

One night all the children but Jeffrey were engaged in a particularly rowdy bedtime wrestling match. Now and then Jeff would try to join in, but he would end up short of breath or hurt and would retreat to my lap.

“It isn’t fair,” I said to my husband when the children were at last in bed. “He shouldn’t have been born into a big, noisy family like ours. He needs a quiet family that isn’t quite so overwhelming. Maybe he should have been an only child.”

“Nonsense!” my husband answered. “He’s ours and we love him. We just have to do our best to help him grow and develop.”

The next morning we made an appointment with an allergist. With regular immunization shots for his asthma the midnight trips to the emergency room for adrenalin decreased, then went away all together. As his strength improved, so did his disposition. When he felt well, he no longer needed to cling to his mother, his whining ceased and he began to participate in games with other children.

Then a wonderful thing happened. He started to fight back. I do not advocate teaching children to fight; yet learning to stand up for himself is a necessary part of every child’s growth. The first day Jennifer pushed him too far and he retaliated with a strong shove, I felt like cheering. More and more often he came out the winner in those squabbles, until finally they seemed to be on equal footing.

One day in the summer when Jeffrey was five, he proved that he had caught up. He had been playing in his room when Jennifer came in from outside, crying.

“Tom threw a rock at me,” she wailed. Tom was a playmate of both children.

“I’m going to go get that Tom and throw a rock at him,” announced Jeffrey who had come to see what was the matter.

“Oh, no you’re not,” I answered. “We don’t throw rocks no matter what someone does to us.”

“Then I’m going to punch him in the nose,” he declared and marched out the door before I could stop him.

Down the sidewalk he strode, determination in every step. From the dining room window I watched my former forty-five pound weakling stand with his hands on his hips, leaning forward nose to nose informing Tom that he’d better not throw rocks at his sister again.

Jeffrey and Jennifer started kindergarten that fall. They were both ready. In fact, so ready for life among their peers were they, that they could probably have skipped the social adjustment part of school.

Perhaps being born into this big boisterous family was the best thing for Jeffrey after all.

Our scrawny baby bird shows every indication of turning into an eagle.

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