The Favorite Child

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Most parents will tell you that they love each of their children equally. Of course, the oldest child may get certain privileges over the others but that is most likely based on age and birth order than favoritism.

Just as well, the youngest child may be catered to or “babied” more than the others. But yes, most parents will say that there are no favorite children. However, this is not typically the case when it comes to how children behave with their parents.

My husband likes to joke that our youngest two boys didn’t care about him until they turned two years old. As infants this is probably true. A baby that nurses knows the person that is their source of food and is rarely willing to be far from them.

Especially in the first few days home from the hospital, our boys wailed every time I would pass them to their Dad when I wanted to leave the room to eat or shower. If they were awake, they wanted to be close to me. But even after turning one year old, eating solid food and no longer breast feeding, I was like a favorite blanket, needed all the time.

It tends to go in phases as the boys grow older. Since they are with me most of the time, they fight and argue over spending time with their father.

“I get Dad!” They try to yell over each other, quick to be the first one to finish. When no one can agree, we flip a coin to decide who gets to go with him and who is stuck with me.

They both watch nervously as the silver coin spins through the air. As it drops to the ground, the winner triumphantly raises his arms in the air exclaiming “YES!” The loser groans.

Thanks. That makes me feel great.

Although for a moment I am tempted to explain the pain that I endured during labor, I refrain. Instead I look the pouting loser in the eye, flash a wide smile and say, “You get me!”

Our youngest is still very attached to me. Many mornings, as his little body shuffles into the kitchen, he rubs his tired eyes and tries to focus in the bright light.

My husband sees him first. “Good morning! Would you like some juice?” Our son gives him a grumpy grunt before running past him to me.

I bend down with my best morning smile. He runs into my arms and with a big grin exclaims, “Mama!” I pick him up while he rests his head on my shoulder and pats my back with his soft little hands.

My husband shakes his head with a smirk. He pours his juice and is careful to hand it to me instead of our son.

He is having a “Mommy Morning” and is particular about wanting me to do everything. Get his juice, sit by him at the table, get him dressed, etc. He becomes more agreeable as he wakes up.

At age three, I should discourage his behavior when he insists that he wants me for everything (which is typically when the tired factor comes into play). But as someone wise once said, “Pick your battles.”

Sometimes it can make you feel very special to be the needed one. Other times, not so much. “Honey, can you please take a break from watching the game and take him to the bathroom?”

My husband (not taking his eyes away from the tv or moving from the couch) yells over his shoulder, “You know that he won’t want me. I would, but he’ll want you!” A Marge Simpson growl builds in my throat as I stop what I am doing to assist with “potty time.”

We consider it just another phase. Ride it out and move ahead, favorite parent.

Edited by Jody Smith

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