I have three boys. And if you know, you know.
My oldest is fifteen — confident, driven, already figuring out who he is in the world. My youngest is eight — still soft around the edges, still reaching for my hand, wild child . And then there’s my middle son. He is nine years old, has an enormous heart, makes everyone around him laugh, cooks’ dinner with me every night, and will defend the underdog every single time without hesitation.
He also is very competitive. In sports, games, who gets the remote….it’s always a competition.
For a while I didn’t know what to do.
Why does he get so frustrated over a point not scored?
Why does he always have to be first in line, first on the bus, first at everything?
The way a small moment of losing could unravel his whole afternoon. I loved him through every bit of it — but I just didn’t understand.
And as a mom, not understanding feels a lot like failing. Is it my fault?
Then I read about something called Middle Child Syndrome. And I sat back and finally understood.
It finally made sense.
Here is what nobody tells you about your middle child — his behavior isn’t a personality flaw. It’s a message. And once you hear what he’s actually saying, everything looks different.
My son wakes up every day sandwiched between a brother he idolizes and a brother he feel responsible for.
He watches his older brother and measures himself quietly against everything he sees. He carries the weight of being a younger sibling as well as an older one at the same time. And somewhere in the middle of all of that — literally in the middle — he begins to feel overwhelmed.
So much focus is on preparing for life with the older and reigning in the younger that he silently asks….
Do you see me? Am I enough? Where do I belong in this family?
Competitiveness is his way of standing out when those big feelings inside are too loud. It is never really about being first in line. It’s about feeling secure. Feeling seen. Feeling accepted.
And when your nine years old and don’t understand how to express these emotions…you race to the bus line instead.
When I understood that, I stopped seeing a behavior problem. I started seeing my son.
To be honest, I broke down and cried. These whole times I worried about my son but was focused on the wrong thing.
So, I got more present.
That’s really the whole answer, as unglamorous as it sounds.
When my boys are home, I am mom. Not NP student, not doing homework, not mentally somewhere else. Just mom. Because I realized that what he was competing for all along was something I could simply choose to give him — my attention, and my time.
We cook dinner together every night now. It’s become our thing — just the two of us in the kitchen, talking about his day, laughing about nothing, existing together without an agenda. We do family movie night every week. We protect that time like it matters because it does.
Small things. Consistent things. Things that quietly say — you don’t have to fight for your place here. You already have one.
For a child who is emotional overwhelmed, creating a routine helps calm the noise. It creates a foundation they can trust. It becomes their constant that grounds them when life is too much.
If you have a middle child, I want you to hear this.
It’s not defiance. It’s not a bad attitude. It’s a child doing the best he can with the emotional tools he has right now — and a child who needs you to look underneath the behavior before you respond to it.
Ask yourself honestly — does he feel seen? Not just loved, because I already know you love him. But truly seen, in his own right, separate from his siblings?
Does he have something that belongs only to him?
You don’t have to overhaul everything. You just have to show up a little more intentionally for him — and let him feel it.
We are all just figuring this out as we go. And the fact that you’re reading this, looking for answers, trying to understand him better?
Shows that you are an excellent mom, who loves her kids. Breathe. Give yourself some grace. Your’re doing a great job. 🧡
Hot Flashes & Cold Brew 
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