Admiring the Centerpiece

My son Gabriel turned two a few days ago.  Last week, I discovered that he knows how to count to ten.  I was very proud and completely mortified at the same time.  After all, what kind of horrible mother doesn't know that her kid can count?  Even worse, he obviously didn't learn it from me!
When our oldest son Sammy turned two, he and I spent our days putting together puzzles, reading books, and doing all the other things perfect mothers of only children do.  I knew what milestones he was supposed to reach and how far in advance he accomplished them.  Now, my life is a little more hectic.  Okay, a lot more hectic.  I spend most of my days trying to keep my head above water in a sea of chaos and poopy diapers.  I don't spend the time with Gabriel that I did with Sammy, although I justify this to myself with the fact that Gabriel and Sammy have constant playmates in each other.  Gabriel is a pretty easy-going child, yet he is spirited, energetic, and such a boy.  To know him is to love him because he is so adorable and cute but tough and crazy at the same time.  I know I'm his mother and completely unobjective, but trust me, it's true.  His personality helps make my life easier in a lot of ways because he's not whiny or demanding, and he's happy playing by himself or following Sammy around the house.  However, I sometimes struggle to find a balance between fostering his independence and neglecting his need for special attention.  Because he is so easy-going, it's easy to cut corners with him.  I might put him to bed on a busy night without reading to him, for instance, because he doesn't need the choreographed, ritualized bedtime routine that Sammy requires.

A friend of mine refers to her middle child as her "centerpiece," and I have borrowed the term from her.  Since discovering that my poor child had to teach himself how to count, I'm now working on making sure that Gabriel is our family's centerpiece and not the type-cast, forgotten middle child that will spend his adulthood in therapy because of me.
I started by giving him credit for being such a good kid.  Gabriel deserves a lot of admiration in my opinion.  He went from being the baby of the family to a big brother a few months shy of his second birthday.  The week before our new baby arrived, he potty trained himself!  I thought he would certainly regress once the baby was born, but he didn't.  Instead, he has taken on his new role as big brother with huge amounts of pride and very little jealousy.  He is great with the baby, surprisingly gentle for a rough and tumble toddler.  He hasn't hurt him yet, whether on purpose or by accident.

I am also working on giving him more one-on-one attention and trying to make sure that the individual attention I give him is more positive than negative.  As most parents in the throes of the "terrible twos" can tell you, this can sometimes be a challenge.  Two year olds, at least in my experience, are all about testing limits and causing a ruckus, no matter how sweet they may be.  I'm pulling a trick out of my old teaching days here.  For every instance of negative attention I give him (ex: "Gabriel, stop hitting the dog!"), I am attempting to have three positive interactions (ex: "I like how you shared your toy.").
We're also putting him in a sports program at the YMCA that is for two year olds and their parents to participate in.  I figure that will give him a chance to both run off energy while getting me all to himself at the same time.
He might still end up in therapy in 30 years, but at least I can say I tried!