It happens every couple of months: some mommy or daddy blogger hems and haws in front of their computer screen and then finally takes a big swallow and pulls the proverbial trigger on the 'big confession' they've been thinking about revealing for a while.
It's a real shocker of course, something that brings about a little attention (if you live for that sort of thing), but mostly that is because it opens the floodgates for trolls and haters and even relatively sane people to come out of the cyber woodwork and go berserk over something that, for once, makes sense to go berserk over.
I'm talking about the whole "I have a favorite child" thing.
At its best, it's a complete and utter lie written in a desperate attempt at attention, and hopefully, some big 'hits' (aka readers).
And at its absolute worst, it just might be true.
Still, there are thick slabs of me sauteed in doubt whenever I hear about one of these dramarama pieces making the rounds. See first of all, I find it impossible to relate to, even the miniscule of possibility that a parent could actually sit there on their evening couch and look at their two or three or however many kids they have and actually hear that constant voice in their hollow head whisper, "Bella! You like Bella the best! She's so easy going AND she's named after your favorite Twilight character!"
I mean, how could that really take place? Still, maybe it does though, huh? Maybe I just don't want to believe it. If that's the case, well then the joke is still not on me really because the fact of the matter is this: I cannot imagine a more damaging thing to even ponder, let alone confess to the world, than proclaiming from your personal hilltop that you have a favorite child.
Parenting is a rough and tumble road and it takes all kinds, I guess. Heck, many folks want to make you think that they have it all figured out and that they rarely stumble along the trail; those kinds are easy to recognize. They never even fly their planes within a country mile of anything resembling a problem or a failure on their part when it comes to raising kids. Instead, what you get with these folks is usually a battleship load of photos of cupcakes and toddler bed throw pillows. They aren't out to fan the flames much.
On the opposite side of things though are these other parents, these ones who, for whatever reason, think that it's perfectly okay for them to come up with ways to whip up a little ridiculous froth when it comes to writing about the ups and downs of being a mom or a dad. Typically, they are not literary geniuses, or let's face it, even all that interesting in real life. So they toot along doing their thing and then
one day it dawns on them that what they really need is a Molotov cocktail of sorts, something they can hurl through the boring pane of glass they are staring at the world through and rile up the masses with a lit up jar full of good old fashion gasoline.
It is my opinion that to write such a piece, to say in writing that you have one son or daughter who you like better than the rest is to essentially assassinate your credibility not just with your readers (or readers who have been provoked to read you just this once), but also, quite tragically with your own children, too. Each and every one of them.
Think about it for a sec. What kid who ever finds that article or hears about it from someone will ever be able to understand why or how such a thought could have ever even occurred to the very person they most trusted with their own heart and their soul in this world? What little kid, whether they are the so-called favorite one or not, would ever be able to come to reasonable terms with the fact that, once upon a time, mom or dad let the world know that they smiled more/ and brighter/ and better whenever that one 'golden child' walked into the room than they ever did for their other children?
To break it all down: how is saying that you like one of your kids better than the rest of them any different than saying that you LOVE one of them more than the rest?
And how is saying that not the worst possible mistake you ever made, or ever will make?
So, confession time. I like both my two-year-old son and my four-year-old daughter the same. Honestly, I really do! And to be perfectly blunt about it, it's the easiest thing that I've ever had to do. And yeah, that might not be very exciting or original to read, but still.
When you think about it, it's actually one of the greatest sentences ever written by any writer anywhere at any time.
And you know it.