Children's Story - Unpublished

Do you know what? It's hard being the "middle" child.

"This is our oldest son, David," my parents say proudly. "And this is our youngest child, Anna," they say fondly.

"And this is old what's-his-name, the one in the middle,"
they say, looking around for me, even though I'm standing right there in front of them
...in the middle, of course.

My older brother has a cat.
My younger sister has a puppy.

And me? I'm supposed to share half a cat and half a puppy.
Well, believe me, I got the wrong ends of both of them!

I have to do all the cleaning up after a whole cat and a whole puppy, too!
No matter what I do, I can't seem to get out of the middle.

Soldiers take the "high ground"
or the "low ground".

Never heard of them taking the "middle ground" did you?

And football fields. Those guys fight each other to get out of the middle, don't they?
All the fun happens at the ends of the field, see?

Like skiers going ^up and skiers going _down.

They never stop in the middle, do they? Well, maybe, if they fall.
Middles are just something half-way, something you pass by.

Everything is half-way for me.

Think about going only half-way up the stairs, or half-way up a ladder, or drinking half a glass of milk.
Why, if I got in an elevator, I'd be stuck between up and down, right in the middle forever!

Or maybe I come up to bat in a big game, and I only got half a bat.
Or maybe only half a uniform!
Probably no one would notice because I'd be in the middle of the batting order.

But, I have to admit, that being in the middle can have its good side, too.
Well, sometimes, anyway.

I give all my cauliflower to my younger sister, because, being younger and smaller than me, she needs more vitamins.

And I let my older brother take out the trash, because, being bigger and older than me, he's stronger.

The middles of Oreos and Twinkies are the best part, too.

And once, when we were playing train and really messed up the house, the engine and the caboose got in the most trouble.
I was just the car in the middle of the train, and they don't really do much, do they?

Just sit there in the middle looking innocent, pulled by the engine and pushed by the caboose, right?

Come to think of it, being in the middle ain't so bad after all, is it?

The End
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For more Stories and Poems for Children, visit author's UK page http://adellebradford.org.uk/10.html