“Who do you like?”, Jedi asks after coming home from school. He’s sitting with me after sharing the intricacies of his day, such as who he played with at recess and who he talked to at lunch. All the important stuff.
“I like you”, I tell him.
He rolled his eyes at my easy out. “But who do you like best? Me? Daddy? Abby, Buzz? Grandma and Grandpa?…”, he continued listing names of everyone in our family until I cut him short.
Figuring I should play the safe card, I said, “I like everyone in this house best.”
Exasperated, he tried again, “You have to pick just one.”
“I can’t pick just one. I like all of you best.” Because picking favorites would only give ammunition for later, like teen years when my kids are throwing rampant insults or reasons for therapy down the line.
“Do you like me?”, he asked seriously.
“Of course I do. I love you.” The conversation fell silent for a few moments before I wittingly turned the question on him. “So who do you like best?”
All smiles, Jedi quickly replied, “You!”
Now that’s a great answer, I wanted to declare. But before I could, J piped up from the other room, “Hey, wait a minute!”. A precise defense for why you never pick just one. Though at that moment, he was my favorite, too.