A few weeks ago, I took my son to see a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat put on by a local children’s theater group. A clever casting director chose a small, gamine-like nine-year-old for the starring role; his older siblings were played by older children who were all at least a head taller than he was. Against that hulking backdrop, it was easy to see why Jacob might prefer this youngest, most precocious child.
But Jacob wasn’t the first of the biblical patriarchs to favor one child over another—in all likelihood, Jacob inherited this attitude from his parents, from his father’s clear preference for Esau and his mother’s preference for him (see Genesis 25:28). Centuries later, Paul would use this example in his letter to the Romans, as part of an argument concerning the “chosen” status of Israel: “Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated” (Romans 9:13; see also Malachi 1:2-3).
Such stories of biblical favoritism troubled me growing up, because they suggested the possibility that my parents (surely as flawed—if not more so—than the biblical prophets) might similarly struggle to love me and my three siblings equally. However, now that I have become a parent, these stories haunt me because I see myself in them.
I have two children, a five-year-old boy and a two (almost three) year-old girl. My daughter is a charmer: dark-haired, dark-eyed, unusually verbal. She’s the kind of child who shimmies down the back row of the chapel, waving to all the older members of the ward like a miniature pageant hopeful; the kind of child who does an impromptu dance to “I am a Child of God” after a baptism. When she’s not busy entertaining people, she’s content to play quietly by herself.
My son, on the other hand, has a kind of inner turbulence that I don’t know what to do with. He drives himself hard, often crying in anger when a drawing doesn’t work out the way he wanted, or when scheduled events go unexpectedly awry. His intensity translates itself into sometimes constant demands for immediate action: get this for me now, play with me now, read to me now, love me NOW. Some days, it’s exhausting. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m pretty sure Elder Robbins was talking about my son when he said:
A sweet and obedient child will enroll a father or mother only in Parenting 101. If you are blessed with a child who tests your patience to the nth degree, you will be enrolled in Parenting 505. Rather than wonder what you might have done wrong in the premortal life to be so deserving, you might consider the more challenging child a blessing and opportunity to become more godlike yourself. With which child will your patience, long-suffering, and other Christlike virtues most likely be tested, developed, and refined? Could it be possible that you need this child as much as this child needs you?
(After Elder Robbins said this, my son, who was sitting between my husband and me, wanted to know why we were laughing).
Let me be clear: I love both of my children. But loving them doesn’t always translate to liking them equally. My sister reassures me that liking one child more is normal, and in fact often changes with the child’s age and particular stage of development.
But I still worry about favoritism, for a couple of reasons. First, I think my son can tell that I have an easier time with his sister, and he feels less loved as a result. Second, if I’m trying to model my parenting on a divine model, it doesn’t seem right to get distracted by how likeable a particular child is. After all, in his capacity as a parent, God loves us unconditionally, and his love for us is independent of our likeability or even our righteousness. And if, as the Sunday school lesson for this week advocates, we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, I don’t think we can do that without moving beyond individual preferences (and liking) in our homes or in our communities.
How common do you think favoritism is among parents? Have you dealt with it in your family (either your own or the one you grew up in)? What strategies do you find successful for learning to like (and love) your children equally?
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