Satire | Humor | Parenting
You’re My Favorite Child
Congratulations… don’t tell your brother
Sit down. Let’s talk.
Let’s just say what we’ve all been thinking: you’re my favorite kid. Your mom and I like you the best. Of the kids we have, you are better than the others. But, by “better” I just mean more excellent, more superior, more worthy, you know. That’s all. And by the others, I mean your brother.
Now, does that mean we love your brother any less? Sure. But does it mean we’re going to treat him any less fairly? Also, yes. But do we still have to treat him with kindness and respect? Only time will tell. Can I be honest for a second? He sucks. Your brother? Come on, let’s be serious.
Let me level with you: he’s super annoying. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. He’s always talking too loud or trying to get my attention. He’s always copying you. I get it. When you complain about him, I’m right there with you.
But we don’t “play favorites” in this family. We pick favorites. For real. You’re favorite.
You might have noticed some subtle signs that we like you better. You might’ve noticed how whenever you win at something, we all celebrate and get ice cream, and whenever your brother wins, I say I forgot to keep score and the game was dumb to begin with. You might’ve noticed how we always remember to celebrate your half-birthday and how we always forget to get your brother his vaccines. Stuff like that.
You haven’t noticed? You haven’t noticed how your chores are easier? You get to play with the cat, and your brother has to de-mold the crawl space.
Still, we have a responsibility to both of you to be good parents. I mean, you should see it. He loves us so much, the little guy. I could not tell him this. Between you and me, he’s got dependency issues.
One time I saw this movie, Sophie’s Choice? and I didn’t get it. It should’ve been called Sophie’s Very Easy Question.
Well anyway, last thing I wanted to say is that I plan to leave you all of my inheritance and my landscaping business and the college fund. Your brother can have whatever he can fit from his bed in a 10-liter knapsack. I love you. And your brother, I… your brother has a hard time of it. I hope by the time he turns seven, he can turn things around. Seven? Wait, how old is he?
