Although, as Kate will tell you, Mary is the "chosen" one.
I always laugh when she says that, but I'm going to tell you a secret. This is a deep, dark secret no mother ever reveals. By disclosing this confidence, I permanently surrender any claim to the coveted Mother of the Year award. Ah well. Here goes ...
Mothers do have a favorite child.
That's right. All those times when you asked your mom if she had a favorite and she responded, Of course not, sweetie! I love both/all of you equally! -- well, she was lying. I'm truly sorry to crush your illusions.
Naturally, this revelation brings us to the obvious question: Is Kate -- my opinionated firstborn -- right? Is Mary -- my sweet baby -- the chosen child? Is Mary my favorite?
The answer reveals the rest of the secret: Yes. And No.
Mothers do, at times, have a favorite child. But the favorite child changes, sometimes within a minute. Mary strides into the kitchen, grabs her favorite wooden spoon and bakes up a batch of the best chocolate chip cookies in the world. Favorite child. Kate looks at me with those eagle eyes that miss nothing. Favorite child. Mary asks me to go get sushi with her. Favorite child. Kate invites me to spend Saturday with her, wandering through antique stores. Favorite child.
All things being equal, love isn't. So, I confess. I do have a favorite child.
P.P.S. Maturity is way over-rated.
Sidenote for those of you just joining the fun: Post 60 is a digression on the Creative Instigation blog, part of my 60th year celebration. This is post 12 of the 60. Party on!