Have you ever wondered what life would be like if your family were different? If you had more kids?  Less?

This summer, I get to find out.  I’m getting rid of a kid.  Well, actually, he’s going to be away at a program for a good chunk of the summer.  And, while he won’t be too far, it will give all of us a preview of life in the too-near future when he really does go away for college.

Instead of the usual foursome, I’ll have one less. My steady helper, my peacemaker, my second-in-command will be off on his own adventures.  So what will that mean for the others?  It will be interesting to see how the family dynamics change when one integral part isn’t there.

If you’ve read any books on birth order, you know the theory that kids take on roles depending on where they fall in the family.  You have the oldest one who is usually the responsible, high achieving one.  The middle one may coast along, confident that since you haven’t killed the oldest, this one can test those boundaries a little more.  Then, you have the baby who is assured that the world revolves around him or her because, well, it just does.

So what happens when the middle one is now, at least for the summer, the oldest?  Does he realize that he doesn’t have to look to his oldest brother for affirmation--along with the downside that he doesn’t get to turn to his oldest brother for approval?  That his younger siblings will look to him to see how he behaves, and that he gets to be Mom’s backup voice?

What about the second middle one, now that he has the middle all to himself?  What will he do when there is one less talker with which to compete for attention and time?

And the youngest? Well, I don’t see life changing all that much, since the belief in their gravitational pull on the earth remains consistent.

I was talking with another mom who went on a trip with her husband and younger children, leaving the older son with relatives because of his sports schedule.  What was amazing to her is how she had a chance to get to enjoy her younger son, out of the shadows of the older one.  She saw how the younger one blossomed and showed his personality, without having to play the role of the younger brother.

I know what she means. I remember when my children were small and I took my two-year-old daughter out for an appointment, leaving the boys with a babysitter.  Instead of having to vigilantly watch everyone to ensure no one got lost or separated, I got to chat with my daughter.  I got to laugh at the things she said and just delight in her company.  And that’s how it often is whenever I have one of my kids alone.  That magic works even if I have any subset of my usual four.

Maybe it’s the freedom from those birth order roles that have been developed over time that allows us to truly enjoy the people they really are.  And maybe without those roles, they can relax and not constantly jockey for position.

I’m thinking that I’ll tell my kids that there really is a fifth child in the family—so that when we do have the usual four, perhaps we can still have that magic.