Do you ever have conversations in your head with someone? The other day, Imaginary Drew was asking me which of my parents was my favorite. This may be an actual conversation that’s happened out loud at some point. I thought I would have an answer for Imaginary Drew (I don’t like getting into fake conversations when I don’t know exactly what my platform is), but it turned out I had no idea which is my favorite parent.
I thought I would have reasons for why I favor either parent in a certain situation, but I couldn’t even make that work. Really what it comes down to is that I adore both my parents and that has nothing to do with the scenario. I am equally happy whenever either of them picks up the phone. (And I am basically over the moon if they actually pick up the phone before the answering machines picks up.) When I’m home for the afternoon or the weekend, I prefer it if they stay in the same room so I can stay there with them – if they split up it gets complicated.
I have a vague memory of being a kid, and of having divvied them up, into the times of day I preferred each of them. (No offense, parents, this is a weird little kid memory, and I was probably hopped up on Ovaltine.) I think I remember, but I could be wrong, deciding with my brother that we liked playing games with my dad during the day, but my mom was better at tucking us in at night.** Does that even make sense now? I don’t know. Would Robb back me up? Probably not.
Once I’d realized that I really don’t have a favorite, I realized how lucky that is. Lots of people don’t even know one parent, some people hate one (or both) of their parents…and I get two parents. Still together after all these years, and still as interested in me as I am in them. (I presume.)
Imaginary Drew, by the way, agrees with me that it’s impossible to name one favorite parent. This is corroborated by Real Drew. And really, haven’t we totally beaten the odds? By having two sets of parents who are still happy together? I mean, what are the chances? Hashtag lucky!
**A memory: I went through this phase where I had this deep fear that the toilet seat would be left up and one of our cats would fall in. This horrified me, and every night I would have to ask the parent tucking me in to double check that the seat was down. But I was too embarrassed to say the word “toilet” (I had the weirdest, shyest neuroses) so we made a deal that I would just sign the word for toilet and they would double check. Such patience!