A friend once told me a story about her family and it instilled in me a desire to pass the same feeling on to my children. The story was that each night, when her mother tucked her in to bed, she would tell her, MaryAnne, you are my favorite child. Don't tell the others, because I love them, too, but, you are my favorite. My friend MaryAnne believed for her whole childhood that she was her mother's favorite and she never told her siblings the secret she shared with her mother.
One day, when the older siblings were out of the family house, MaryAnne's sister came to visit. She joked about how she missed having a curfew and doing chores, and how she missed being tucked in to bed. She told her siblings, I may not live here with you anymore, but, I'm still Mom's favorite.
MaryAnne was adamant, No, I'm mom's favorite. She tells me every night. No, said a brother, she tells ME every night that I'm her favorite. The jig was up.
MaryAnne said her mother just laughed when her children confronted her with the "deception". As now a mom herself, MaryAnne told me that story and it has stayed with me as an example of how to raise strong children - a sure foundation in love and commitment.
I have told each of my children that he or she is my favorite. I've been know to start off with, OK, who wants to be Mom's favorite today? Each of my children knows that he or she is loved and respected. Each is valued and prized.
This story and the tradition it follows is demonstrated in these notes. These are just some that I have up at the office today. I get them in my lunches, and I find them on my desk, when my ladies are in town, and stop in to see me. Love notes.
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