Growing up as an only child, my parents’ separate vacation routines created a unique family dynamic. My father took me skiing in Colorado during winter breaks, while my mother organized beach days and movie nights in Boca during spring. This arrangement reflected their distinct interests—my mom’s aversion to cold and my dad’s dislike of “sitting around in the dirt”—allowing me to experience both worlds. While some associate only children with spoiled behavior, my experiences defied such stereotypes.
My family structure didn’t fit the conventional “nuclear family” mold, a concept often tied to capitalist ideals of consumerism. Without siblings, I lacked the typical childhood chaos of shared toys or group conflicts. Instead, my routine revolved around solo moments: reading in my room during TGIF marathons, which primarily showcased multi-child families on screen. The absence of siblings made my home life distinct, yet it offered advantages like an entire room and wardrobe to myself.
Childhood pop culture heavily emphasized birth order tropes, often excluding only children from relatable narratives. Quizzes and memes framed only children as conflict-averse or socially awkward, yet I didn’t recognize these labels. To me, having no siblings was normal—who else would share my space or belongings? My stuffed animals, including a perpetually tail-less iguana-like friend Sean’s pet, were my only confidants in times of disagreement.
As a preteen, I occasionally fantasized about an older sister. While she might have been a mean-spirited authority figure, an older sister could have guided me through teenage milestones—tampons, foundation application, or deciphering high school social codes. My reliance on teen magazines like Seventeen left me craving peer-like guidance, which an older sibling could have provided through hands-on demonstrations, like using makeup products correctly.
One significant fear as an adult only child is assuming sole caregiving responsibilities for my aging parents. The prospect of managing their needs alone is daunting. While I’m grateful for uninterrupted family time, such as our annual Aruba trip where we read, dine together, and avoid gift-giving, I wouldn’t trade my only-child experience for a sibling. The autonomy and focused quality time with my parents are irreplaceable.
Alison Leiby is a writer and producer, co-host of the podcast Ruined. Her television credits include The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and Life & Beth. This excerpt is from her essay collection I’m a Lot, published this month.
