Playing favorites

When Hunter and Meadow were little, they did what you expect kids to do - they preferred Mom for just about everything. Need somebody to kiss a boo-boo? Mom. Need a hug? Mom. Need someone to wipe your boogers on? Mom.

You know, I thought it was cool.

As they got older, the theme continued to dominate. Did Dad drive the car in a direction you didn't approve? Mom. Don't like the way Dad packed your lunch? Mom. Did you just puke all over the carpet? Mom.

Sweet.

Then came River.

From the beginning, he had a special bond with his Dad. He was the first baby to actually CRY when handed to me instead of Dad. Which he still does. Arms out, fingers grasping, contorting his body to be closer to Dad. At first I thought it was sweet. They had something special.

Now, I think I'm offended.

When we drive to places together and I go to get him out of his carseat, he shakes his head and begs for Dada. Getting dressed? Dada does it better. Did Mom help put those pants on? Ohmigosh! Didn't she notice they were on FIRE? How's the shirt Dad got you? Oh, right, pretty comfy. Awesome. Got a boo-boo? Dada. Need a hug? Dada. Need someone to wipe your boogers on? MOM.

Awwww. I knew I was his favorite.