Everyone has an opinion about only children. Grandparents, neighbours, strangers in checkout lines, that one friend who read half an article on child psychology in 2014 and never recovered.
Apparently, raising an only child is a humanitarian crisis. A moral failing. A guarantee that she will grow up lonely, self-centred, and possibly ruling a small nation with an iron fist by age twelve.
I, of course, disagree.
But disagreement does not stop people. Oh no. They deliver their unsolicited wisdom with the confidence of a TED Talk speaker and the accuracy of a toddler throwing spaghetti.
“Only children are always spoiled.”
“Are you sure she won’t be lonely?”
“She needs a sibling to learn how to share.”
Ah yes. The old you can’t learn kindness unless someone steals your toys daily argument. A favourite among people who have forgotten their own sibling warfare, or worse: enjoyed it.
I, for one, remember mine vividly. I’m the middle child. I grew up in the diplomatic trenches of sister rivalry, negotiating peace treaties over bathroom time and clothes theft.
So if anyone asks, yes – this is absolutely me healing my inner child. With toys. And cats. And the gentle whisper of “We can afford this, right?” to my husband, who stares at me like I’m personally paying the loan in Barbie dolls.
The “Too Many Toys” Tribunal
People assume only children have too many toys. And to that I say: does she? Perhaps. Does she also have three cats who treat the house as their personal kingdom? Absolutely.
We have limits. We have rules. We have boundaries. (Okay, some of them are imaginary, but they exist in spirit.)
It’s not like I’m throwing her a new toy every time she blinks. Sometimes she has to blink twice.
The truth is, she’s kind, gentle, and really good at sharing. She shares with us. With her cousins. With her friends. With her cats, who did not request this generosity but receive it anyway in the form of glittery tiaras placed gently (and repeatedly) on their confused heads.
If that’s spoiled, then spoil me too.
My Husband’s Budgetary Existentialism
Here’s the thing: my husband and I are mostly aligned. Mostly.
He comes from the School of Reasonable Purchases. I come from the University of But It’s Cute and She’ll Love It.
He believes a child can thrive with “just a few toys.” I believe a child can thrive more when surrounded by the world’s most colourful plastic ecosystem.
Sometimes he says, “Do we really need this?” And sometimes I say, “Define need, to me, personally, as a human mother healing her inner middle child.”
We compromise. But let’s be honest – some compromises look suspiciously like small victories for me.
The Spoiling Hypothesis
Here’s what people forget: time spoils a child more than objects do.
And she gets a lot of time.
We read. We play. We build towers that violate basic architectural principles. We spend our afternoons picking up the same toys we just put away, because parenting is just Groundhog Day with smaller furniture.
We give her love, not indulgence. Certainty, not chaos.
And when I buy her something, it’s because I can (thankfully), and because it makes her eyes glow like she just discovered joy in its purest, sparkliest form. And yes – sometimes it also makes my inner eight-year-old feel seen.
The Cats as Siblings Experiment
You know what no parenting book covers?
What it’s like when your child’s “siblings” are three cats with a combined emotional range of:
- annoyed
- very annoyed
- asleep
They don’t compete with her.
They don’t steal her toys (unless the toys have strings).
They don’t teach her aggression, fairness, or how to scream at someone for eating her cereal.
They do, however, teach her:
- patience
- gentleness
- how to accept rejection
- how to properly apologise after trying to dress them as unicorns
Honestly, it’s better character development than anything my own siblings taught me.
The Myth of Martyr Parenting
Some parents wear deprivation as a badge of honour.
“We never bought our kids anything!”
“Our kids had two toys total!”
“They had to fight a bear to earn their first sticker!”
Good for them.
But my daughter doesn’t need to suffer through childhood so she can brag about it later. She can have a joyful childhood now and become a functioning adult later. Revolutionary, I know.
She’s not entitled.
She’s not greedy.
She’s not demanding.
She’s just loved.
And apparently, that’s suspicious.
The Real Fear Behind Only Children
People don’t worry that only children will be spoiled. They worry that they’ll be… fine.
Happy.
Confident.
Secure in themselves.
Because they grew up with parents who paid attention – not because they bought everything, but because they understood her needs and their own limits.
We don’t have another child because we didn’t want another child. Not because we failed at some cultural expectation. Not because we’re selfish. Not because we’re “robbing” her of something.
We chose what fits our life, our marriage, our sanity.
And honestly? Peace is underrated.
The Conclusion: Let Them Judge
Buy the toy.
Eat the sweets (in moderation, obviously – we’re chaotic, not feral).
Raise the child you have, not the one society keeps sending you brochures about.
Let the world think she’s spoiled. Let them imagine her lonely, sitting on a throne built from plushies.
Meanwhile, she’ll be here – laughing, playing, thriving, draping a cat in a princess gown, and growing up in a home full of love, limits, and occasionally unnecessary purchases.
And the next time someone says, “Only children are spoiled,” I’ll just smile and say:
“Great. At least she doesn’t fight anyone for the bathroom.”
Erika Matic writes about motherhood, boundaries, intergenerational nonsense, and the quiet rebellion of choosing what actually works instead of what everyone else expects. She believes love isn’t spoiled by abundance – and neither are children.
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