It’s a truth I wrestle with: I have a favorite among my children. I imagine others may feel the same way.
The arrival of my oldest and youngest children was highly anticipated, both delivered by the same doctor, both entering the world with their unique cries and eager appetites. They were both bald and cone-headed, ready to latch on without hesitation. My middle son, Oliver, however, made his entrance in a whirlwind four hours and will always be remembered as the baby who nearly arrived in a restaurant. With a head full of dark hair, he was born calm and took his time latching, showing from the start that he was different.
To be clear, my love for all three of my children is equal. However, (there’s always a ‘however’) I do not connect with them all in the same way.
I find it easier to engage with my oldest and youngest, especially my oldest, Noah. Our discussions are rich and varied; he’s curious and insightful. Now that he’s mastered reading, we delve into topics that fascinate him—like ancient mythology and historical battles—sparking real conversations. I can confide in him, share secrets, and engage on deeper subjects like mental health and our experiences with ADHD. Noah is that kid—the one with whom conversations flow effortlessly, making it easy to bond.
Noah’s opinions matter too. He offers thoughtful suggestions while shopping, articulating his desires without throwing tantrums. Instead of toys, I might buy him a new book, and we can discuss everything from the Star Wars universe to our daily lives. His delightful nature makes him a joy to be around, and I suspect many of you can relate to having a child who is simply easy to love.
Then there’s my youngest, my little Ray. At just four years old, his golden locks and sweet voice saying, “I love you, Mama,” make my heart swell. Ray often snuggles into bed with us, and I cherish these fleeting moments. The magic of being the youngest is palpable; there’s an undeniable warmth in those cuddles. If you have more than one child, you likely understand this bond—the youngest often feels like the easiest to hold in your arms.
Ray also crafts imaginative sticker creations, each accompanied by elaborate stories that require our attention. He sleeps surrounded by a small army of stuffed animals and embodies cuteness itself. Dressing him up and spending time together feels effortless, and I find it so easy to love this little being.
Then, there’s Oliver.
Oliver has a passion for many things, one being the color black. He has a natural affinity for animals, especially the ones most people might shy away from. Currently, he’s engrossed in his worm farm, which cleverly resides under our kitchen table—a testament to my indulgent parenting. As spring approaches, he will turn his attention to capturing frogs and other critters, immersing himself in his interests.
His way of engaging often involves an avalanche of questions, which can be overwhelming. When he asks “When will we…?” or “How long until…?” I feel a surge of stress. I strive to respond with patience, reminding myself that he seeks connection. Unfortunately, we often miss the mark. If you have a child like Oliver, you understand the challenges.
Oliver isn’t the easiest to connect with. He prefers his Spinosaurus shirt over any cute outfits I choose for him, and his interests sometimes feel alien to me. I genuinely try to engage with what he loves—whether it’s answering questions about salamanders or supporting his right to choose his favorite animal at the zoo. I cuddle with him, and though it feels more challenging than with Noah and Ray, those moments are precious.
Indeed, I admit to having favorite children. It’s a sentiment that weighs heavily on my heart. Watching my dear Oliver, I can’t help but feel emotional, knowing I love him just as deeply as I do his brothers, even if connecting with him is more of a struggle.
I push myself to engage with his interests, whether that means discussing the worm farm or enduring the cold to collect rainwater for his beloved creatures. I hope he feels my love, despite the effort it requires.
So yes, while I love all three equally, I find that my relationships with Noah and Ray come more naturally. I reflect on Oliver’s unique spirit and realize that my heart holds space for him too—even when it feels like loving him is more complicated.
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In summary, parenting can reveal complex emotions and connections. While I acknowledge my favorites, my love for each child remains profound. The nuances of these relationships only deepen my appreciation for the unique individuals they are.