Favorite

Growing up, my mom often told each of us (me and my two younger brothers) that we were her favorite. She did this with a smile, as she knew the one she was talking to knew she’d just said the same thing to a sibling or two.

Last night, Olivia didn’t go to sleep in the rocking chair like she usually does, so at bedtime, we headed up, all three of us awake unlike most nights when I carry a sleeping Livs up and tuck a sleepy Lyss into bed.

So we laid there, all three of us. Olivia had a wand with a purple light that I told her she could continue to have for five minutes before she had to turn it over to me.

Alyssa had her Bubby, a stuffed dog she’s had since she was two.

I scratched O’s arm with my right hand and my left hand was clasped in Alyssa’s right.

When I was Alyssa’s age, I had to sleep next to the wall or hold my mom’s hand as I fell asleep because if neither of those things happened I had the frog-men dream. It was creepy and I’d do anything to avoid it.

As I laid there, waiting for them both to fall asleep, with Alyssa rubbing her thumb across my hand and Olivia offering different parts of her arm and hand for scratching, I realized that we’ve come full circle.

I’m the hand that needs to be held. I’m the one who scratches and soothes.

How lucky am I that I am their favorite?

Even if they told their daddy just a half hour before that he’s their favorite because he was the one who scooped the ice cream, it didn’t matter because in that moment, I was the favorite.

A mom friend of mine was accused one day of having a favorite daughter. She found this amusing because the people (yes, plural) couldn’t even agree which of her daughters (she has two) was the favorite.

I laughed with her and told her that I have a favorite but it changed from moment to moment. There are days when Olivia, with her curly Farah Faucet hair and her sparking eyes does something adorable and suddenly she’s my favorite. But then, a few minutes later Alyssa will giggle over something stupid on Seinfeld and she’s my favorite because that giggle is so contagious.

Each moment brings the chance to create a new memory, a new favorite.

At 8:30 each night, I have two favorite daughters, one who needs to hold my hand for a bit before falling asleep and one who needs me to scratch the web between her finger and thumb. And in those moments, I am the favorite to both of my favorites.