This past Tuesday a guy sat down next to me on the train. Mid-sixties, gray hair, blue eyes, GREAT accent. Kind of like dis guy.
We started talking.
He told me that he was from Breezy Point, New York. We talked about the merits (and de-merits) of train travel. We talked about airplane travel. We both fly a lot. We talked about TSA Pre-check and how it’s saved many a trip.
And then he told me about his kids. His son is a lawyer who works for Governor Cuomo, his daughter is a chemical engineer.
“Do you have any children?” he asked politely.
“Yes, I have a daughter who lives in Boston and a son who lives in Seattle. That’s why I’m on a plane so much. Very different cities I know, but my children are really different from each other so that figures,” I replied.
“Which is your favorite?” He then asked.
That was a tough one. I didn’t know how to answer it. I hesitated.
“Come on, you can tell me,” he prodded. “Which one do you like better?”
I was stricken. But then I thought, fuck it. This guy is just a stranger on a train. I’ll never see him again. I might as well tell him the truth.
“I’d guess, if I had to be pick, um…I guess I would have to say I like my son a teensy bit better. He’s more like me and…”
“No. I meant which city?”
Oh.
My two kids argue about which is my favorite, citing both benefits provided and slights made to determine, of course, that it’s the other. I figure that, if they are arguing and truly believe the sibling is the fave, I have done a good job of being pretty equal.
Truth be told, Carey has edged ahead for two reasons and two reasons only — Emmett and Grover, my grandsons. If ever there is a case to be made for immortality, that’s it. All my ancestors live on in that new generation, I along with them.
Adam will likely catch back up some day; after all, he was my first-born, and that is its own reward.
Besides, I need to decide which one will take care of me when I get old, . . . well, older.
Of course, I write this as I sit in the dark at 5:45 am in her living room while she is doing a 5:30 yoga class and Matt is off to work. The things I do to be a good Poppop.
You ARE a good Poppop- and a good commentor. Thank you, Michael, for adding your POV to this cringe-worthy moment. Emmett and Grover are lucky to have such a smart grandpa- and babysitter.
I’ll bet you’ve done a much better job of not showing any favoritism towards either of your kids than your mother did. Bravo for stopping the pattern in your family perpetuated by your mother.
I think I was my Dad’s favorite among us seven kids but he did a great job of not showing it. I think my mother favored my brothers as she seemed to focus more on them but that wasn’t unusual back in the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s when the parental focus was so often on the sons in the family. Parents usually pushed their sons harder than their daughters towards successful lives because they were expected to grow up to become educated, have careers and make enough money to easily support a family. Since it’s not my fault I was born a girl, I’m sure not going to take my mother’s favoritism personally.
Around the time you and I were young adults, someone did a research project on women serving on boards of large corporations or foundations. They sent out questionnaires to women who had been appointed to the boards because of their own achievements not because of who their father or husbands were. Out of the 100 responses received from these women, 99 were only children or from all girl families. I think the rest of us females with brothers often got lost in the shuffle as we were growing up.
Each of my three children is so unique or different in comparison to the others it’s been fairly easy to treat them equally since I value their differences. But my son might tell you I favor his sisters. Well, it’s not my fault he’s often be unavailable for years as he kept busy climbing the corporate ladder.
I think parental favoritism in families is fascinating as it so often is passed down through the generations.
Thank you, Susan, for this very informed comment. And I certainly believe that I treated both my kids on an equal footing. But it was a standing “joke” in our house that Natasha was her father “in a dress” and that Nick shared my likes and dislikes. This I think is often the case. And believe me, my kids had their “favorite” parent. No equal opportunity there. But still, I’m mortified. How could I have misunderstood that guy SO badly? A true Freudian slip. 😊😕
I truly think I would have made the same Freudian slip if he’d asked me the same question. I think a lot of us would have. He certainly could have been more specific in his question.
I don’t know if one of my kids is more like me. I know I see some of myself in both my daughters. I some of myself in my son but sometimes I see more of his father in him than I like to see. 😕
And that’s a whooole ‘nother Post. I could do an entire blog devoted to nothing but Divorce. But who would want to read it? And I would be too depressed to write it. Thanks, my friend.