While reading an article at Better Way Moms about ”Playing Favorites,” I found my thoughts transported to a time about nine years ago. I stood in the back porch/mudroom of my childhood home. My daddy was holding me as I sobbed, heartbroken, over something…the details of which are unimportant today.
As he held onto me, Dad said something that I’ve heard him repeat on occasions since. It’s a lesson he learned from his own father, and one I hope to pass to my children when the time comes.
People ask your mom and me which of you kids is our favorite. You know what I tell them?
The one who is hurt.
The one who is lost.
The one who feels broken.
The one who is celebrating.
The one who is in trouble.
The one who needs me at that moment in time…
You see, I am the middle child, #2 of 3. And while I never felt neglected or rejected, I never felt as if I was favored.
On that day, I was the favorite. And I know now that is was neither the first nor the last time my parents felt that way. I’ve also seen days when it was my older sister, as well as witnessed my baby brother “taking the lead.”
On that day, while my tears soaked into my father’s flannel shirt, I learned that it’s okay to have a favorite child, and that it’s not going to be the same one all the time.
The question remains…Do I have a favorite?
Of course I do! It depends on which of my girls needs me more.
My favorite child is:
The one who lost the fight.
The one who fell down and banged her knee.
The one who was rewarded for good behavior.
The one whose friend called her names.
The one who asks for hugs af kisses…and the one who doesn’t but needs them still.
The one who aced her test.
The one who didn’t.
The one who needs the love of her momma just a teeny bit more at that moment in time.
That is my favorite child.
