New Mummy Blog: My Baby Has A Favourite Parent, And It's Not Me

The books warned me that when baby number two arrived, I might find I have a favourite child.

It might be the baby, so precious and tiny and new, making the toddler suddenly seem like a ham-fisted giant.

Or it could just as easily be the toddler, all sparkling personality and bags of fun compared to the eat, sleep, repeat monotony of a newborn.

Either way, the experts said, it's normal, natural and quite okay.

The idea seemed completely not okay to me, and terribly unfair. I worried. And waited for the signs that one child was creeping up in my favour while the other slipped down.

Happily, it never happened. I adore them both. There are no favourites here.

Or so I thought.

I was so busy worrying about whether I'd catch myself committing the cardinal sin of parenting and choose myself a favourite child that I didn't think that my child might instead be choosing a favourite parent. And that it wouldn't be me.

It seems that baby Henry is far more fickle in his affections than I am. He has had no qualms about displaying blatant favouritism towards his daddy. In his five short months in the Sparks family, his mind has been firmly made up.

He's a daddy's boy and I don't get a look in.

Sure, I'm the one who feeds him, who soothes him, who spends all day with him. I run to him when he cries. I rock him to sleep. I spend long, lonely hours awake with him in the middle of the night. I carried him for nine months.

All this counts for nothing. Diddly squat. For all his dad has to do is walk into the room and it lights up his whole world.

He might be sitting in my arms but he'll be craning his neck to watch his dad, eyes following wherever he goes. He's waiting, all he wants is to catch Daddy's eye, ready with a huge beaming smile as soon as he does.

But I'm not bitter. Truly, I'm not. There's nothing I'd rather see than my husband and my son so delighted to be in each other's company.

Of course, it helps that I've always been top banana in our toddler's world. Honor has always been mummyish, no matter how we tried to discourage it. It only got worse when I went back to work, and then worse still now I'm at home again.

Yes, it would get awkward sometimes. I could see my husband trying to pretend not to be hurt when she'd lunge out of his arms towards me. Or when she bursts into tears when I leave the room, shutting the door behind me so she can't follow and must stay with him.

But is it totally wrong that her blatant preference for me and my company seemed unremarkable, expected even?

I'd always just assumed the logic above applied: I was the one to feed her, soothe her, rock her, so you might expect that extra special place to be reserved just for me.

But it's not so for Henry. And why does that seem worthy of remark? Adam's just as much their parent as I am, after all. Is it because society dictates the bond between mother and baby should be strongest? Or is it simply because the boot is on the other foot and I'm not top dog?

I suspect the latter. Henry and I undoubtedly share that unique, unparalleled bond between mother and child. He feels safe and secure with me. It's just he likes fun, exciting, loud Daddy more. And why shouldn't he?

In fact, it works well. If we had two children clamouring for the same parent all the time, things would turn ugly.

Plus, when they hit teenage years, they probably won't even speak to either of us. So we've got to enjoy it while it lasts.

[New Mummy Blog: How Much Choice Should We Give Our Children?]

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