Every kid who has a sibling will likely tell you that one of them is their parents’ favorite. It’s a rite of childhood, a passage into adulthood that either separates you from, or binds you to, the other children with whom you share strong genetic similarities.
In my family of three girls, it was the middle child who was crowned the Queen of the Children. She is so beloved that not even my other sister and I could get upset. She’s like Snow White (except way smarter) — sweet enough that birds want to sing songs about her, gentle enough that deer want to eat from her hand and so kind that small forest creatures want to cuddle up in her lap.
As the youngest, I had teachers who called me by her name, even when they had never had her in class. I once asked my favorite teacher how that could happen, when I had been his student for nearly two years and the two of them had never met.
“Well, I’ve just heard so many great things about her.”
I will spare her further embarrassment. Suffice it to say, she’s still that awesome and I can honestly say that I never begrudged her the role. We all understood. It’s impossible not to love and adore her. Then one day, she met this guy. He’s equally amazing. I know, it doesn’t seem fair, right? Anyway, since he’s a private person, I won’t drag him into this other than to say that a few years later, I also met a guy. Eventually, my sister and I married our respective guys. Our older sister had preceded us in walking down the aisle. So we were all happily married.
And then the favorite son-in-law battle began — well, for my husband, anyway. To be honest, neither of my brothers-in-law engages in this tussle. It is an imaginary fight that my husband fights alone, mostly with my parents.
Things started out a little rocky for my guy. We first started dating after I ended a long-term relationship with the previous favorite. That unto itself made things tough, but add to it that he was quite the workaholic and missed nearly every family event in our first year of dating (including a near-miss of the favorite child’s wedding day) and things were grim.
Luckily, his fabulous sense of humor, the ability to install shower-heads and a willingness to be their airport chauffeur gave him a nudge in the standings. But he never missed an opportunity to point out how the “other” son-in-law seemed to do no wrong.
As all good parents do, mine have a wall of their children’s photos. When we said our vows, our husbands were added to that wall, in the form of wedding photos. Whether through sheer chance or calculated planning, the presumed favorite child and favorite son-in-law’s photo was twice the size of mine and my other sister’s. Additionally — and this was a work of incomparable magic — their beautiful forms, highlighted by the rays of sunshine beaming down through the skylights of the cathedral ceiling, were placed across from a mirror. Somehow, no matter where you were in the main part of the house, they were visible.
And unfortunately, my husband was the one to figure this out.
“So it’s not enough that he’s the favorite, now you have to be able to see him from anywhere in your house?”
This was years ago and if you ask him about it now, he will still retell the story, recalling the horror of it all, in vivid detail, for more minutes than you’d care to listen.
My parents, who once felt guilty that he was actually hurt by any of this, have learned to play the game. At one point, they switched the wedding pics and let my husband have his 15 minutes of fame. Of course, since it was temporary, he was not sated. Another time, we arrived for a Sunday meal and found that my parents had printed a poster size image of my spouse and hung it across their antique china cabinet. But it didn’t remain after that day, so again, he found room for argument. Really, he doesn’t need much.
They even address his birthday cards to their “favorite son-in-law” but the quotes leave room for interpretation. If you ask my husband, that’s intentional. It’s kind of like fighting with an irrational 2-year-old who is hysterical over the loss of his ice pop after he tried to wash it. It’s an exercise in futility.
So next time you’re wondering if you’re the favorite child or not, try adding to your stress level and wonder if you’re the favorite daughter- or son-in-law. After all, it’s not enough to just feel inadequate in your own family.
And if it gets really bad, you can always make a voodoo doll of the offending, favorite sibling and/or in-law. Instructables has the steps and a little advice about voodoo dolls.
“A fun and therapeutic way of expressing your distaste for someone both artistically and in such a way that you may not directly bring harm upon them with your own hands.”
Have at it!
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Laurie Nigro, is the mother of two biological children and one husband. She also takes care of a menagerie of animals that leave throw-up around for her to step in in the middle of the night. Laurie’s passionate about frugal, natural living, which is a nice way of saying she’s a kombucha-brewing, incense-burning, foodie freak who tries really hard not to spend money on crap made by child laborers. You can hear her rant about her muse (aka husband) and other things that have no bearing on your life, in this space each Sunday.
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