Life

Be honest, have you a favourite child?

Suzanne McGonagle

Suzanne McGonagle

Suzanne has worked at the Irish News since 2004. Her particular areas of specialism are news and education.

Be truthful, have you a favourite child?
Be truthful, have you a favourite child? Be truthful, have you a favourite child?

DO you secretly have a favourite child?

Go on, admit it - there's one of your kids that you're just a teeny bit more fond of isn't there?

I know you're not meant to favour one, but deep-down, do you? But is there one of your offspring that shines that little bit brighter.

All parents insist they love all of their children equally, but do some mums secretly have their favourites?

Judy Murray, mum of tennis ace Andy, this week may have mistakenly revealed her true feelings towards her two sons.

Like most mothers, she swore for years there were no favourites between Andy and his older sibling, also a tennis player, Jamie.

But in what was probably supposed to be a light-hearted tweet, Judy posted a photograph of Andy with Chelsea football club manager Jose Mourinho along with the caption 'The Special One with My Special One'.

Her message didn't go down the best with Jamie, one of Britain's best doubles players, who simply replied: "Thank you mum".

Appearing to spark some friendly sibling rivalry between her sons, the brothers then swapped a series of amusing messages arguing over who really is her number one son.

"We all know you are number 1 son noobs (sic)... Best presents at Christmas, bigger bedroom, blame everything on me etc," said Andy.

Jamie then joked his younger brother's tennis success meant the tables had been turned.

"Times have changed ... Now your bedroom is bigger than my apartment and I'm no longer the favourite son," he said.

In the end it was down to Judy to end the Twitter squabble, who told Jamie: "My Extra Special One xx"

Are you one of those parents who shows the love for one of your children more than another?

I remember one time when my middle son actually asked me if I loved my eldest child more than him. I was horrified, 'how could you think such I thing?', I retorted back.

It came as we searched through albums of photographs for a picture of my middle son as a baby for a school project.

As we sifted through the carefully compiled albums, gazing at the multiple images of my eldest son, taken from the hospital when he was born, as a week-old baby, his one-month birthday and so on.

'But where's the photographs of me, mummy', I could hear a little voice say.

As many parents can relate to, with your first-born, everything is done to complete and utter perfection.

My eldest son's baby book was meticulously filled in - everything from the names of the midwives who delivered him, his first words to the order in which his teeth came through and an account of his first Christmas.

The first few years of his life are documented in hundreds of photographs, written notes and momentos.

The second born - well, his baby book is slightly different. Of course, I filled in the birth weight and time - but after that it all looks a bit blank. And the photographs, they probably only amount to a few dozen.

Can this be classed as favouritism to one son more than another? Do I love him less?

Definitely not.

It's the desire as a new mum to document every little moment of your first born's life. You try with the second, but sometimes things are just that bit busier with a toddler also in tow.

And when, like me, you go on to have a third child - well, I don't think there was even a baby book bought for him.

You try to be the right parent for each child - all completely different in their own little ways.

They all have their own personalities, traits, strengths and weaknesses - but that's what makes them all individual.

Tailoring your approach to each child is a long way away from cherishing one more than the other.

Parents can only but trust their own instincts and know that they adore each child equally and without condition.

Treat them all differently, but never have a favourite child.