Last but not least

Growing up as the oldest of three I always assumed that being the firstborn was the most enviable position of all. You did everything first, received everything new, and there wasn't much that could shake you from that arrogance that you were the first and the best after all.

But now that I have three little ones of my own, and as I watch them grow and develop and interact with each other, I can't help but think that really the one who has it best is the youngest.

Our youngest is almost two years old, and has both a big brother and a big sister to emulate. Despite his rapidly growing size, and the even faster approach of his second birthday which will officially mark the end of his babyhood, he is our baby and will probably remain so until another one arrives to displace him (my husband is shaking his head as he reads this over my shoulder, as much as I am nodding mine). Or he could possibly always be the youngest.

So he is drowned with love and attention. Our older children were, too, but our youngest just has it from more people and for longer. Once our older children passed their second birthdays they had another - younger - sibling to contend with.

When you are two years old and have older siblings you get to do and try so many exciting things.

It really is quite cool when your older brother teaches you the dance moves to Gangnam Style before you have even mastered the actions to, say, The Wheels on the Bus. And even cooler is to be able to sing along to Lady Gaga better than you can recite Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

At just 18 months old you know how to say certain words (such as gun, stupid and a range of others) perfectly, because you have heard your older brother and his friends say them in front of you since the day you were born.

It's also great to be able to say "wrestle" and "fight" before your second birthday. It means you get to join in with the raucous fun on weekends as our older children and my husband turn our bed into a wrestling ring. It makes you pretty tough for your age, but doesn't always go down too well at playgroup when you try to wrestle the other children who are waiting to sing nursery rhymes.

You also get to eat things most two year olds never get to taste. Candies and lollipops that come home in the party bags of older siblings find their way into the hands and mouth of our little baby. You get to go to Korean barbecue restaurants, and eat instant noodles and all the other rubbish your older siblings beg, cajole and plead for.

And because you are also now at an age where you are loud enough to make your displeasure known, you refuse to be left out. It is why you have been go-karting, have ridden on an elephant, jumped on a giant bouncy castle and can swim underwater without fear. You get to go down the highest slide in the playground because you have an older brother to hold you as you swoosh down.

The youngest child in our home is essentially fearless. You can jump, run and swing without impunity because you see your older siblings do it. This is why you are able to greet strangers with the words "poo poo face", much to mummy's horror and your brother and sister's great amusement. They did after all teach you that greeting.

And when they comment on how naughty you are, and complain that you pull their hair and snatch their toys, the answer is simple: "But you taught him to do that."

Playing with, or trying to emulate, your older siblings is also why you often sport a bump on your head or a scratch on your cheek.

And the youngest of any group learns quickly that when he's with his brother and sister his parents are outnumbered. And that is valuable knowledge when you are running across the sofa and calling everybody names.

Rebecca Tomasis, a mother of three, was co-winner of the first Proverse Prize for unpublished writers