When Little Guy was born, I stared at his pasty white skin and orange hair. If I hadn’t just delivered him, I would have figured they’d made a mistake. It was the middle of a quiet, cold January night and all I could think of was how we would be able to take him to the beach in the summer. I made a mental note to buy stock in Coppertone.

For months, he was the mellow, content baby. Then, he discovered he had a brother. I am now convinced his first few months were spent just taking it all in. Developing his strategy. For Little Guy was born to run.

Ever since his older brother realization, Little Guy has been running. Running to catch Big Guy. To be included. So much of his energy is spent running that he doesn’t give in until his head literally hits the pillow.

I’ve always chalked up Little Guy’s enamored status with Big Guy as a typical second child trait. As most younger siblings, Little Guy worships Big Guy. Like most older siblings, Big Guy tolerates Little Guy. In small doses.

I am constantly amazed that no matter what Big Guy throws at him, Little Guy’s affection never wanes. Even if Big Guy excludes him to the point that a raging, knock down, drag out fight ensues, once it subsides, Little Guy still wants to be with his brother. Love is truly blind.

Being around the house this summer, it’s become crystal clear how much Little Guy relies on Big Guy to pass the time. The irony is that when Little Guy is in his own element - at his own school or with his own friends - his brother’s entrancing hold disappears. But at home, his own creativity is stifled as he waits for his brother to lead.

This came to a head a few weeks ago, when Big Guy was at camp. Little Guy and I had five whole days. Alone. We could do anything together - the pool, play basketball, bake cookies and eat lots of the dough - anything. Little Guy was lost.

I had to sell him on the opportunity before us. And it was one tough sale. I had a five day window to help Little Guy get reacquainted with himself. More specifically, his “home” self. The one that goes into hiding when he walks through the front door and falls at the mercy of Big Guy.

Once Little Guy realized he didn’t have to stare at the clock and wait for Big Guy to come home for the fun to start, he let loose. At his suggestion, he biked all around the neighborhood. This was symbolic because Little Guy always wants Big Guy to bike with him. When Big Guy says no, Little Guy usually ditches his plan. That day, it didn’t matter. We had a wicked basketball game. Pulled out some toys stashed in the back of the closet. Goofed off as we washed down the porch together. And the ultimate – planned his yard sale. The key word being “his”.

Looking back on those five days, I’d like to think I helped Little Guy grow a bit more comfortable in his own skin. Still, I am not completely fooled. The week was unusual. The circumstances. The undivided attention. All that will fade.

Little Guy will inevitably go back to playing the role of the stereotypical second child to Big Guy’s older, wiser, first child. That’s OK. It’s part of the chemistry between my kids. With everyone’s kids. It’s simply birth order in action. A pecking order that is as old as time.

Nevertheless, I’d like to think that something has changed. That if he should grow tired of sitting in Big Guy’s room, in Big Guy’s shadow, he can choose to step out.

And I have a role in that. Before my time alone with Little Guy, I hadn’t realized how I subconsciously endorse this “one leads, one follows” relationship between my boys. I promote the sibling hierarchy. Contribute to the hero worship with comments such as, “Ask your brother for help.” Or “Big Guy can show you how to do that.”

What I have learned is that when I do this, I may still be watching both of my kids, but I am only really seeing the older one. Giving him credit for being more responsible. Labeling him as my designated helper. This may be warranted. But only for a short time.

At some point, when your Little Guy catches up to your Big Guy – maybe not in number of years, but in his ability to think, to want, and to do - it’s time to reassure him that that it’s OK to stop running. And go at his own pace.

Illyse appears every Thursday on TriangleMom2Mom.