*This post is inspired by the great Erma Bombeck’s column “My Favorite Child”
Like it or not, I have to admit that I have a favorite child. Yeah yeah, all that jazz about loving them the same is what I regurgitate at them when they ask who I like the best. And go ahead and fold your arms self-righteously and judge me harshly for being honest. Everyone has a favorite. It’s just the way it is.
My favorite child is the one who climbed into bed this morning and snuggled his little head under my chin, patted my cheek, said “mommy” and fell back asleep.
The child who helps me with the dishes every night without complaining and talks my ear off the entire time, about nothing and everything all at once, has a singular hold on my heart.
The little girl who insisted on wearing Winnie the Pooh snowboots, in July, for a week will always be my favorite.
I could never love another child as much as I love the one who, after receiving applause for correctly using a fork at the age of 2, paused and looked at us expectantly every single time she used a fork thereafter.
My favorite child is the one who still lets me hold her hand when we walk side by side.
When he stands at the top of the stairs and throws stuffed animals down at me and giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the whole wide world, I forget about everything else.
I am bowled over by the love I feel for the girl who survived a year of brutal bullying and still refused to change her wonderful quirky nature.
The amazing talent that pours out of my dancing girl every time she steps onto the floor fills my heart with love and joy.
The one who makes me laugh every single day, even when I’m trying to be stern with her, is my favorite.
The kid who always asks for more when I sing him goodnight owns all my love.
The girl who has been fearless since birth takes my breath away.
The child who needs me, loves me, hates me, laughs with me, cuddles with me, watches scary movies with me, loves to canoe with me, drives trucks all over me, cooks with me, cleans with me, makes me crazy, makes me yell, makes me cry, hurts my feelings, forgives me when I’m wrong, will always be my favorite.
Like it or not, I have to admit that I have a favorite child. Yeah yeah, all that jazz about loving them the same is what I regurgitate at them when they ask who I like the best. And go ahead and fold your arms self-righteously and judge me harshly for being honest. Everyone has a favorite. It’s just the way it is.
My favorite child is the one who climbed into bed this morning and snuggled his little head under my chin, patted my cheek, said “mommy” and fell back asleep.
The child who helps me with the dishes every night without complaining and talks my ear off the entire time, about nothing and everything all at once, has a singular hold on my heart.
The little girl who insisted on wearing Winnie the Pooh snowboots, in July, for a week will always be my favorite.
I could never love another child as much as I love the one who, after receiving applause for correctly using a fork at the age of 2, paused and looked at us expectantly every single time she used a fork thereafter.
My favorite child is the one who still lets me hold her hand when we walk side by side.
When he stands at the top of the stairs and throws stuffed animals down at me and giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the whole wide world, I forget about everything else.
I am bowled over by the love I feel for the girl who survived a year of brutal bullying and still refused to change her wonderful quirky nature.
The amazing talent that pours out of my dancing girl every time she steps onto the floor fills my heart with love and joy.
The one who makes me laugh every single day, even when I’m trying to be stern with her, is my favorite.
The kid who always asks for more when I sing him goodnight owns all my love.
The girl who has been fearless since birth takes my breath away.
The child who needs me, loves me, hates me, laughs with me, cuddles with me, watches scary movies with me, loves to canoe with me, drives trucks all over me, cooks with me, cleans with me, makes me crazy, makes me yell, makes me cry, hurts my feelings, forgives me when I’m wrong, will always be my favorite.
Thank you
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