I love you all — equally!

When my kids were young, they all wanted to know who was the favorite child.

They were all smart in how they asked the question. They knew that if they simply came out and asked, my wife and I would say no one. So, they found new says to try to get to the heart of the question: Who got into trouble the least? Who got the newest toys? Who is the best behaved?

Of course, like any good self-respecting parent, my wife and I fended these questions off as quickly as they came up. Pickleball anyone? Tennis? You don’t want to mess with me! I’m a killer on the court.

I haven’t been asked the “favorites” game in a while, but it’s always kind of there. I know the question still exists, because I still tease my oldest brother that he’s my mom’s favorite and we’re far from spring chickens.

Image by Tina Nord on Pexels.

Yes, I swear my mom loves him more than she loves me. Oh in her heart, she really loves me more, but he’s got a sensitive ego and she wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings. Yea, my mom hasn’t actually said that, but she’s let me know, with a wink here, a laugh there, that I’m right.

In reality, my mom does the exact same thing that I tell my own kids: She says my name, like I’m still ten-years-old and in trouble, states that it’s a horrible thing to ask and that she “loves each of my kids equally.”

“Yea, right Mom, we know you have to say that, but I’m really your personal favorite. C’mon on mom, just say it.”

In any event, here’s a post of mine from seven years ago. You may or may not be surprised when I admit who my favorite is. I’ll give you a hint: my favorite has four legs and licks my hands. Let me know how you like my response!

‘Playing favorites!’