When I was a kid my parents always made a point of telling my siblings and me that they loved us equally.

        No one was the favored son or daughter. No one was the family goat. What one got, all got; what was denied one was denied all.

        Once, though, after my dad started his standard “You know we love all you kids equally” with me, he paused and added a “but.”

        “... We're proud of you,” he said, after a moment.

        I think I shrugged, as only an adolescent can shrug, all the while thinking, “I know you love me best. I know you love me best.”

        Now that I'm a member of the parent population, I think I get what my dad was trying to tell me: He and my mother loved us all — both because of and sometimes in spite of our differences.

        So it is with my three. The love is doled out evenly. But imagine my surprise to learn that each kid is his or her own lovable (or, sometimes, not-so-lovable) self.

        Where Frances, the oldest, is meticulous and precise, her brother, A.J., is of the “get it done” school of behavior. At nearly 8, Fran prints beautiful letters, colors inside the lines, erases and redraws the same curve in a picture five times to get it right. A.J., approaching 6, embraces a more freestyle form of printing and coloring, and fills pages with elaborate curly-cued creations, unfazed by an errant line or stray scribble.

        Fran is more of a sorter and counter (like Mom) while A.J. is more of a piler (like Dad). From their earliest days of trick-or-treating, Fran was the kid who lined up her candy by brand or type — Reese's here, Snickers there — and A.J. was the kid who dumped his bucket and started stuffing his mouth with whatever was close.

        Fran requires multiple reminders (OK, nagging) during the morning and evening routines. A.J. typically brushes his teeth, changes his clothes or hops in the tub at the first request.

        She'll eat nearly anything. He'll eat about 12 things.

        She is generally kind. He likes to tease.

        She cries easily. He laughs easily.

        As for Beatrice, their 3-year-old sibling, she is still defining herself.

        Some days, she is a sorter/counter; other days, a piler. Sometimes she cooperates with the routines of the day; other times she rolls on the floor in a hissy fit. She likes to play outside but she never tires of Barney videos. She cries and laughs with equal fervor.

        As my parents loved me and my siblings, I love my kids in equal measure. But it's their individual traits that trigger waves of affection.

        Even though I often prod Fran to work more quickly, I am pleased by her precision.

        Even though I see quality issues with his work, I can relate to A.J.'s get-to-it approach to tasks.

        Even when her tears wear me out, my heart breaks when Fran's does. Even when his laughs are designed to annoy his little sister, my mood brightens when A.J. smiles.

        And even when “Grumpy Bea” hides “Happy Bea” for hours at a time, I still grab every chance to roll her in my lap and whisper secrets in her ear.

        No one is my favorite. No one is the family goat.

        But sometimes what one gets is not what all get. Sometimes, special privileges or treats go to those who earn them. Sometimes, hugs and kisses go to those who need them most.

        Sometimes it's OK to tell your kids you love them as much as their brother or sister — but for their very own special reasons.

        Sometimes you do love your children equally but differently.

        Imagine that.
       

       Contact Patricia Gallagher Newberry by e-mail: newgal@one.net.

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