I was out running errands recently when I got a phone call from my husband, who was at home with our three-year-old daughter. It was lunchtime and he wanted to verify that I served her favorite sandwich – hummus on a bagel thin – open-faced. I confirmed that I did and added that I also cut each bagel slice into four quarters.
Bemused, Jim explained that he had done all of that… and yet at the sight of her lunch, Vivian had dissolved into tears.
A daddy’s girl at play…
“She said I didn’t do it the way Mommy does it,” he said helplessly. And there in the office supply aisle at Target, I let slip a tiny smirk of satisfaction.
At the time, we were coming off Christmas vacation, during which Vivian and I had both been felled by the flu. Jim had spent much of his break taking care of the two of us, and father and daughter had bonded – to the point that Vivian now often favored him over me. It was a natural development and one that I did not take personally.
And yet…
I knew it was both petty and juvenile to feel any sense of triumph over my husband’s revelation… but I did. I still had clout. I was still relevant!
Then again, the following conversation took place between my daughter and me only a few days later:
HER: I love Daddy. He’s my best, best, best, best, best friend!
ME: Awww, that’s sweet! And what about Mommy – am I your best friend, too?
HER: Ummmm… no.
ME: Oh. Okay.
And that was that.
Obviously, toddlers (and dogs) are the only creatures that can get away with such frank nepotism. It simply comes with the age and can (and often does) change by the minute – in the face of a firm “No” from me, Vivian won’t hesitate to turn on the charm with Jim, and vice versa. She is as cunning as she is candid, that one.
I also have no doubt that the individual strengths Jim and I bring to the parenting table factor into our daughter’s often fickle favoritism. Jim, for instance, has no problem joining Vivian on the floor for extended periods of time to fiddle with Legos and building blocks and various other toddler playthings – something that, for me, triggers a sudden deluge of panic for every unfinished item on my never-ending to-do list. Therefore, I’m already at a disadvantage whenever my daughter turns to me with pleading eyes and utters the words, “Mommy, will you play with me?”
On the other hand, I love to read books, sing songs, take family outings, and I excel at more structured activities; you’d be hard-pressed to ever hear Vivian request to bake cookies with her dad.
…and at rest.
Then there’s the ubiquitous parenting game of good cop/bad cop, in which I tend to play the latter. And I doubt my role as the no-nonsense disciplinarian scores nearly as many points against my husband’s goofy, fun-loving dad.
All that aside, however, I know my daughter simply treasures her time with her daddy. Jim is an elementary school teacher, and for nine months out of the year, he leaves for work in the morning long before Vivian wakes up. So, I can empathize when she clings to him in the evenings, and I understand when it’s him, not me, she prefers to fix her breakfast on those precious weekend mornings.
And though I may be greeted to a steady refrain of I want Daddy most days, I know there are moments when it’s me she prefers – such as the recent instance when she informed Jim, “I love you, Daddy, but right now I need a hug from Mommy.”
Besides, when it’s him she wants to rock her back to sleep upon waking in the wee hours of the morning for no discernible reason, I can’t help but think… maybe playing favorites isn’t always such a bad thing.
Does your child play favorites? Do you ever resent it?
