The times, they are a changin’ at Casa de Pav.
Once upon a time, back when it was just my wife and myself and Sprout #1 (the animals don’t count for these calculations), my wife was head and shoulders the favorite parent. Like, don’t even bother with the three-legged race or the egg-spoon relay, she had this thing wrapped up with Sprout #1 from the word go. It’s not even worth trying to break the thing down into categories; the boy clearly preferred her in virtually any situation in which there was a choice.
His language even told the story. He has plenty of vocabulary to say “Mommy” or “Daddy” in response to questions like, “who would you like to read your bedtime story?” or “who would you like to brush your teeth?” or “who would you like to scoop the pulverized, mashed-potato consistency poop out of your butthole?” (It’s not always bad to be the second choice.) Continue reading