Because she makes me feel like Paul McCartney

And you make me feel like Ringo

I’m the target of frequent accusations from my family that I play favorites.  And I admit, I always thought parents who said they “love all of their kids the same” were full of it.  In fact, I found it a downright cowardly answer to a reasonable question!  Look, my dad liked my sister more than he liked me.  He never said it.  But he showed it.  And in truth, my mom seemed to like me more than she liked my sister.  She never said it.  But she showed it.

I didn’t hold this against my mom and dad.  We are wired to rank things.  Hospitals, schools, restaurants.  You probably have a favorite ice cream flavor, a favorite movie, a favorite Beatles’ song.  Perfectly normal.

And with my kids, I mean, sure, there are probably a few who click with me a little better than some others.  But I didn’t think they knew that.  So I decided to investigate. And this being polling season, I conducted my own:

Me: “Who’s my favorite kid?”

Child #1: “Jane.”

Child #2:  “Jane.”

Child #3: “Jane.”

Child #4: “Jane.”

Jane: “Me.”

Hmm.  I get where they’re all coming from.  Jane’s my 5-year-old and I do spend a lot of time with her.  But she’s the younger sister of three truly under-parented older brothers who make life choices that are alarmingly poor.  I have to stay close to her simply to ensure her survival!

But there’s a more fundamental point that my kids fail to grasp.  When I get home from a business trip, my arrival is met with widespread indifference. Except from Jane.  With Jane, well, when I walk in the door it’s kinda like the reaction that teenage girls had when the Beatles came on the scene in ’64. 

Listen kids, it’s really not that complicated.  Moms and dads are human beings.  We are prone to flattery and bribes.  Maybe try a hug or a hello for starters.