ninanevermore

I can handle the fact that my son loves his father more than me. I can. It serves me right because when I was a kid I blatantly told my parents that I loved one of them more than the other.

"I love mommy best, and then daddy," I said one day when I was 5, right in front of my father. He took it in stride, or at least he didn't say anything about it. After all, while he was working all day to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly, my mother spent all of her time in my company. It figured that I would bond a bit more with her than with him.

Now that I'm a parent myself, I'm getting my payback for that offhand comment.

A few weeks ago at a yard sale I bought a little toy barn set that was missing some of the animals. After searching, I found additional animals to go with it on Ebay and gave them to my son the other day. The animals came in pairs – a baby of each species, and a larger parent. I foolishly made the assumption that the larger animals were mothers. It turns out I was wrong.

"Look," I told my tyke, "A baby horse and a mommy horse."

"Baby horse," he said, pointing to the small one, "Daddy horse." He pressed the larger horse up to the little one and made them kiss.

"A daddy horse? Not a mommy horse?"

"No, a daddy horse."

"Where's the mommy horse, then?"

He shrugged. Who cared where she was?

"What about the sheep? What's this one?"

"Baby sheep."

"And this one?"

"Daddy sheep."

"Are you sure it's not a mommy sheep?"

"Uh-huh. Daddy sheep!"

None of the baby toy animals have mothers, it seems. They are all being raised by single dads.

Last night at bath time he almost pushed me over the edge. He has a whole flock of rubber ducks that he bathes with, including the one that I use as my icon in this journal. In addition to it, he has 4 smaller ducks. While the large duck is technically his, I have kind of tied my identity to it. When he told me that it was a daddy duck (the smaller ducks being its children), I felt obliged to correct him. I dug out an older rubber duck of mine that I hadn't given to him before. It's a little bit bigger than his original large one.

"This is a daddy duck," I told him, "That is the mommy duck."

He was delighted with the new duck. He held it and his original duck up in each hand and regarded them with glee.

"Two daddy ducks!" he exclaimed. Then he pressed their beaks together and made them kiss. Say what you will about whether gay marriage, but my toddler has no problem with the idea. He would happily trade me in for a second daddy.

I called his father up at work to complain. I was relieved to find out that Jeff, at least, wants to keep our family the way it is. "Tell him we're a traditional style family and that's that," he said.

"I did. Apparently the ducks are not, though."

"I'm sorry, Honey."

"Easy for you to say – you hung the moon. I'm chopped liver around here."

"I love you, Chopped Liver."

"Good: someone needs to. I love you, too, Moon Hanger."

I know it's not personal. I know one of these days my son will acknowledge that he has two parents and that we both make a positive difference in his life. I can see him some day graduating as his class valedictorian and giving an acceptance speech that I imagine will go something like this:

"I'd like to thank the people who have loved and supported me over the years and helped me to achieve my goals. I'd especially like to thank my Dad for always being there and for inspiring me to be the best that I can be. Dad – you're awesome. I wish I could have had two of you. I'd also like to thank that woman he's married to...what's-her-face...my Mom. Thank you, Mom, for marrying Dad. He's awesome."

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