My favorite child is the one who isn’t making me mad at the moment; pure and simple. It’s not who gives more hugs, keeps a cleaner room, or manages to lift the toilet seat to pee. He who wears the title of “Mom’s favorite” is the one who happens to be acting like a civilized human being at the time. I really am that easily swayed; sibling rivalry will do that to a mom.
On the rare occasion I have two well-behaved human children, my love multiplies, never divides.
While I bore both kids from my loins, that’s where their similarities end. My kids are just too different to be compared and in turn I love them in equal and different ways. I love that I can engage each of them in ways unique to their personalities and yet both of their giggles melt my heart in exactly the same way.
If I’m being completely honest, I’ll tell you that I’ve dealt with rough periods in each of their developments that have made them my least favorite for a time. But that’s the thing, a least favorite is still a favorite. How could a child be anything less?
How do you feel about favoritism?
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