Who Is Your Favorite?

A boy, Waldo, and his two sisters, Pippa and Pyrrha, could rarely get along. They were good little children, but pursuing agreement was still a little out of reach.

Arguments erupted over their share of food, toys, who had the biggest trophies, and even how many kisses they’d each receive at bedtime.

But most of all, they quarreled over chores and how they should be assigned.

When it came time to tidy up, each child would complain, demanding that the others should be held responsible.

“But I didn’t make this mess!” cried Waldo.

“No one else is helping!” whined Pippa.

“I’ll do it once they’re done!” declared Pyrrha.

Growing weary from the squabbles and the mess, the three children’s mother would send them to their rooms. In the silence following her command, she’d pick up the books and the playthings, put away the dishes, and fold the laundry. Alone.

One day, while playing in the front yard, the three children found themselves in a mild dispute over which child was their mother’s favorite.

Having failed to convince his sisters it was surely him, Waldo left the two girls outside to request an answer from his mother.

“Mommy, who is your favorite?”

Mother calmly replied, “Why you are, my darling. But don’t tell the others; it’s just between us.”

Waldo tried to conceal his widening smile, but his cheeks pulled so tightly that he could not help but reveal the glee within.

“I knew it!” Waldo whispered to himself.

“Now, won’t you help me put away these books and board-games?” Mother asked.

With a bounce in his step, he plucked the items from the floor and couch and placed them where they belonged, happy to have been crowned the favorite.

Pippa, who had become hungry, came into the kitchen looking for a snack. Mother had arranged some cookies on a plate, then turned to finish the dishes she’d been cleaning.

Quite pleased to have been treated to a mid-day sweet, Pippa pressed her mother to settle the matter on her mind.

“Mommy, who is your favorite?”

Mommy calmly replied, “Why you are, my darling. But don’t tell the others; it’s just between us.”

Pippa squealed with delight and whispered to herself, “I knew it!”

“Now, won’t you help me put away these dishes?” Mother asked.

Giddy from chocolate chips and the good news, Pippa wiped the crumbs from her fingers into the sink and helped place each cup and utensil neatly in its place.

Bored of being left to play alone, Pyrrha came inside to find her mother folding laundry, still warm from the dryer.

Mother beckoned the young girl to come close. Grabbing her chubby arms, mother whisked her into the air and splashed her into the middle of the pile, laying sheets over her head like waves of a bright summer that never ends.

When Pyrrha finally emerged, she asked, “Mommy, who is your favorite?”

Mother calmly replied, “Why you are, my darling. But don’t tell the others; it’s just between us.”

Pyrrha threw herself around her mother’s legs and squeezed with all the strength she could muster.

“I knew it!” Pyrrha whispered to herself, then dove back into the linens in search of the bottom of the cotton ocean.

“Now, won’t you help me fold the laundry?” Mother appealed.

Drowsy from the warmth, Pyrrha sat beside her mother and quietly began making creases in the sheets.

When it came time for supper, all three children were feeling great pride that they were the favorite, but they desperately wanted to share the secret to prove themselves to the others.

Just as they were sitting down to start their meals, Mother remarked, “Will you look at that? Our home is so clean and peaceful, and it’s all thanks to my favorite.”

The boy and his two sisters looked at each other quizzically, knowing they’d only completed one chore to the exclusion of the rest.

The three of them turned toward their mother, and in righteous concert, pleaded, “I thought I was your favorite!”

Mother smiled at such a moment of brief sibling alliance and calmly replied, “Why you all are, my darlings. Thank you for doing your chores.”