Last week a lot of folks made a big hullaballoo over a large study that said first-born kids average three points higher on IQ tests than their younger siblings. Lots of theories were floated, and lots of researchers went to their computers in hopes of getting grant money to further dissect the results.

Speaking as a person who has scored well on IQ tests, I think they're largely bunk. They do a fair job of measuring a child's analytical skills (IQ tests are designed for children, as they are a measure of potential--anyone who uses standard IQ tests on adults is likely a quack), but since we don't really know or understand what intelligence really is, I suppose we might as well measure analytical thinking--as long as we're clear about that

My older son, Max, is a serious, thoughtful kid. He is quite likely to excel at school and be considered "smart." I'm not saying he isn't, but there's a lot more to life than being the smart kid. I didn't start to figure that out until college. I'm hoping to do a little better with Max.

My younger son, Sam, is what you might call "rambunctious." He can put the basketball through the hoop (at a height of five feet) from ten feet away. He spent much of last spring teaching Max's preschool classmates how to shoot a jump shot. He is also talking much later than Max did and has taken to books much later as well.

My relatives have often commented on Max's similarity to me. He has my speaking patterns (which would only make sense, since I'm the person he talks with most) and he has the freakish ability (for a five-year-old) to focus on a single subject for long periods of time. While I would not say that hanging out with Max is like hanging out with my own personal Mini Me, it is true that most of the time I understand where he's coming from.

Sam, on the other hand, is often a mystery to me. And to Max and Barbara as well. Many times strange bits of wonderfulness seem to pop out of nowhere. In any case, given his active nature, Sam is much less likely to be considered the smart kid. I don't know if he'll have the size to be the "jock" (Max is the one who is tallest in his class), but he's got that interest, anyway.

This week, Barbara had to go down to North Carolina to write a few stories. She took Max to her parents. And Sam and I are having our first extended solo time together...ever. And I'm having to reconsider many of the things I assumed about him.

It is becoming clear to me that many of the odd little things that Sam says and does are often inspired by Max. Since Max has been gone, Sam has been much more sedate and calm. He wants to read books more. He wants to play by himself--something that is rarely an option when Max is around.

Life is much easier with one child. I've known this since the day Sam was born, but what I didn't understand was how much easier life was for Sam. I assumed that he was used to the chaos that is life with him and Max and that he would pine for it. He hasn't, really. Sam has asked for Max, but now that he knows where his big brother is, he isn't that concerned about it. The one time I called him "Max," Sam looked at me with a very serious look on his face and said, "Max is at Grandmama and Granddaddy's house." Then we went on with whatever it was we were doing.

By himself, Sam acts a lot more Max-like. He has always seemed to have a non-existent attention span, though I know that's compared to Max, which is just not fair. In fact, plenty of other folks think that Sam's focus is impressive. Still, it's been interesting to see him really bear down on tasks (making Lego sculptures, coloring, reading to his dolls, etc.) with an intensity I've never seen before. Perhaps all the attention Sam gets from Max has been short-circuiting his brain.

A few weeks ago, we put away Sam's crib and put him in a bed. It took us about a year to get Max to stay in bed consistently at night. It took Sam one night. He loves his bed. Even now, he refuses to get up in the morning unless someone comes to his door and tells him to get up--that someone, of course, is usually Max. Instead of getting up, Sam piles up his animals and dolls and sings to them or "reads" to them. Until this week, I thought he was doing this because he thought he was supposed to wait in bed until bidden. Now, I'm not so sure. That awake time in bed serves as something of a respite from the hurricane of life that he experiences with Max and me. He can sit around and do his own thing. He doesn't have to hurry. He can relax--something that's very difficult when he's around Max.

None of this is to slag Max, of course. Max is a wonderfully attentive older brother, a boy who refuses to hit his younger brother despite frequent provocations (provocations he often invites, but still). Max and Sam generally play together very nicely, and I am now beginning to get a real sense of why they don't sometimes. Max doesn't know how to leave Sam alone--unless he himself needs a break and ensconces himself in his room. Sam needs that down time too, even though he had four mornings a week with just me while Max was in preschool last year.

Now preschool is out, and Sam and Max are together most of the time. They do have the occasional playdates without the other, but that's not much of a break. This fall, Sam will have five days a week with just me. Something tells me he can't wait.

I doubt the influx of non-Max time will change Sam completely. He's still going to want to shoot hoops and throw rocks in the creek and score goals and run just about everywhere all the time. But something tells me he might apply that intensity to some of his quieter pursuits as well--pursuits he can't really, well, pursue with Max in the house.

As for those studies, well, three points of IQ don't mean a whole lot. They sure don't mean the difference "between admission to an elite liberal-arts college and the state university," as some "experts" told the New York Times. Native intelligence is good, but if you don't work, then you won't succeed (no matter how you define success). Nonetheless, I think birth order might be even more important than most people think (Barbara and I are first-born, most of our friends are first-born, and most of them are married to other first-born children--that has to mean something), and it's quite possible that academic success is a bit more difficult for younger kids.

Whatever. I've had a good time this week discovering new things about Sam, things that I probably wouldn't have noticed with Max and Barbara around. And that's the study I'm most interested right now.

Jon Worley lords his IQ advantage over his younger brothers every chance he gets.