Favorite Child

I have been thinking of my father quite a bit lately. I'm not sure why - perhaps it is because I am getting older. And as I age it may be that I understand him more than I did when I was a younger woman.

When I started having children he shared something with me that I have held on to for all these year. It left an impression on me and I have thought about it a lot lately. I'm not sure where he found it, but I want to share it with all of you.

A Parent's Favorite Child

 

Every parent has a favorite child. They cannot help it. They are only human.I have mine.

 

That child for whom I feel a special closeness. The one I reach out to in a rare moment. To share a love that no one else could possibly understand.

 

My favorite child is the one who was too sick to eat the ice cream at his birthday party, had measles at Christmas and wore leg braces to bed because she toed in. She was the fever in the middle of the night, the asthma attack, the child in my arms at the emergency ward.

 

My favorite child spent Christmas alone away from the family. Was stranded after the game with the gas tank on "E", lost the money for the class ring.

 

My favorite child is the one who screwed up the piano recital, misspelled "committee" in the spelling bee, ran the wrong way with the football and had his bike stolen because he was careless.

 

My favorite child is the one who fell asleep over an assignment on China that the teacher never bothered to grade, flunked her driver's test five times and told us she could hardly wait to get out of the house.

 

My favorite child is the one I punished for lying, grounded for insensitivity to other people's feelings, and informed she was a royal pain to the entire family.

 

My favorite child slammed doors in frustration, cried when she didn't think I saw her, withdrew and said she could not talk to me.

 

My favorite child always needed a haircut, had hair that wouldn't curl, had no date for Saturday night and a car that cost $600 to fix.

 

My favorite child said dumb things for which there were no excuses. She was selfish, immature, bad-tempered and self-centered. She was vulnerable, lonely, unsure of what she was doing in this world.....and quite wonderful.

 

The one I've loved the most is the one whom I have watched struggle....because struggle was hers.....done nothing.

 

All parents have their favorite child. It is always the same one. The one who needs you at that moment for whatever reason....to cling to, to shout at, to hurt, to hug, to flatter, to reverse charges to, to unload on, to use....but mostly, to be there.

 

 

 

I remember when he sent this to me just as clearly as it was only yesterday. It still is as true to me as it was then. Our favorite child will always be the one who needs us at that moment.