Let’s just rip the Band-Aid off—yes, you can feel closer to one child than the others, and no, that doesn’t make you a bad parent. It makes you human. Every parent at some point has thought: “Why is it easier with this one?” Or “Why do I click better with that one?” And then comes the guilt. The “Am I awful?” or “Will they notice?” questions swirl in our heads. But here’s the truth most people won’t say out loud: You can love your kids equally and still like them differently. That’s not dysfunction. That’s reality.
I have three boys, and they couldn’t be more different if they tried. My oldest has been with me the longest—he made me a mom. There’s a bond there that was built on every first: first diaper, first milestone, first ER visit, first heartbreak. He set the bar for what it even meant to parent. Then came my twins. Wildly different from each other and from their big brother. One is the most fun to take on a Target run or a lunch date—you’d think he was born to charm—but he tests my nerves like no other when the rest of the family is around. The other twin? Quiet. Sweet. Doesn’t challenge much. The easiest of the bunch in a lot of ways. So what am I supposed to do with all these very different relationships? I navigate them like any mom—by instinct, by effort, and sometimes by flying blind.
I grew up knowing I was my dad’s favorite. He never said it. He didn’t treat my siblings badly. But we all knew. There was a softness he reserved for me that just wasn’t there for the others. And you know what? I didn’t resent it—I treasured it. At the same time, I didn’t feel that same closeness with my mom, and that didn’t destroy me either. Moms are often the default managers of the household—running the logistics, planning the meals, organizing the school calendars. It’s not always emotional—it’s often functional. And that changes how we bond with our kids.
It’s not favoritism in the toxic sense. You’re not giving one more food or attention or gifts. You’re not excluding the others. You’re simply finding your rhythm with each of them—and sometimes that rhythm is smoother with one. Sometimes it’s based on personality. Sometimes it’s stage-of-life. And sometimes, it’s because you’re just too exhausted to fight one more battle, so you naturally gravitate toward the child who’s not sucking every last ounce of your energy.
And here’s where it gets really important: what matters most is how your kids feel. Not that you treat them identically—but that they all feel seen, loved, and secure. They don’t need equal time—they need intentional connection. They don’t need perfect fairness—they need consistent presence. You can be closer to one today and bond tighter with another next week. Relationships with your kids should grow, shift, and evolve over time. That’s not failure. That’s parenting done with awareness.
So yes, you might have a “favorite” today. That’s okay. Just make sure none of them ever doubts that they are deeply loved, wildly important, and uniquely valued in your life. Your job isn’t to pretend your feelings are always equal—it’s to parent with integrity, awareness, and intention.
Pro Tips for Balancing Unequal Feelings Without Guilt:
1. Rotate Your One-on-One Time
Make space for each child in their best light. Take them on errands, grab a quick lunch, or just hang out where they shine. You’ll be amazed at what comes out when it’s just you and them.
2. Talk to Yourself Like You’d Talk to a Friend
If your best friend said, “I feel like I connect better with one of my kids,” would you tell her she’s awful? No. You’d say, “That’s normal. You’re doing your best.” Give yourself that same grace.
3. Watch for Patterns, Not Moments
It’s okay if one kid drives you nuts this week. Don’t panic. Look at the big picture. Are you showing up for them all over time? Are you intentional? If yes, you’re good.
Final Thought: What Kids Remember
I try to recall the exact moment when I knew I was my dad’s favorite—or maybe more honestly, when I realized my mom liked me less. It was July 1987. I was in a car accident with two girlfriends. This was Gen X parenting, so the rule was simple: “Don’t call home unless someone’s dead.” Well, that day, I had to make the dreaded call. The nurse handed me the phone and said, “You need to tell your mom you’re okay.”
I called home. Mom answered. I said, “Mom, I was in an accident. I’m okay, but I’m at Atlantic City Medical Center.” Her response? “Is anybody dead?” I said no. She said okay. That was the end of that conversation.
Hours—literal hours—went by before anyone showed up. I found out later that she wrote a note for my dad that said:
“Alicia. Atlantic City Medical Center. Accident. No one dead.”
That was it.
My dad came downstairs, found the note, and was beside himself. “How could you just write a note? We have to go!” But my mom had Sunday chores to do, and she wasn’t going anywhere.That moment stuck with me. I’m not bitter—I’m just aware. As parents, what we do in those moments, how we show up (or don’t), becomes part of our kids’ emotional wiring. And it’s not about being perfect—it’s about being aware that even the smallest action can leave a lifelong impression.
