Which child would I rescue first from a fire? I’d decide after saving the handbags

By Lorraine Candy for the Daily Mail
Updated: 17:01 EDT, 16 November 2011

My two eldest daughters have spent the week accusing me of loving their younger brother more than them. The duo, aged seven and nine, abandoned their constant bickering and bonded over their belief that the little fella is my favourite.

Like warring contestants on The Young Apprentice, they sacrificed their annoyance with each other to turn on a weaker participant.

While they’ve happily accepted six-month-old Baby Mabel because she’s a living version of Baby Annabel — the battery-powered doll they broke by dropping her out of a window — they’ve got it in for the only sibling that pees standing up.

Lorraine Candy's two eldest daughters have accused her of loving their brother more than them (stock picture)

Their fury at his alleged preferential treatment reached a peak during his fifth birthday party on Saturday when they refused to take part in pass-the-parcel. ‘You never did that for us at our birthday parties,’ they grumbled, arms crossed in unison, looking like Statler and Waldorf, the disagreeable old men in the Muppets.

What can I say girls? I’ve never had time to wrap a parcel before — this is a quirk of being on maternity leave. But are they right about me and my son? Shouldn’t I ‘just ’fess up’ as the eldest goads me to? Well, let’s review the evidence before breaking any parental taboos, shall we?

When I first fell pregnant I was honest about my preference for a boy. I work in an almost entirely female environment, so is it wrong to yearn for some extra testosterone in your domestic life (how was I to know he’d grow up to be the only toddler in the nursery who called himself Miss Argentina?).

Anyway two girls down the line — with a house full of Angelina Ballerina paraphernalia — and I had everything crossed during my third pregnancy for the chance to buy some Transformers. My doctor was acutely aware of my longing and accidentally blurted out the sex of my baby at my 14-week scan because he was so excited.

A boy at last! And a gentle, loveable one at that. It’s not difficult to find extra ‘heart room’, as I call it, for a small child who clasps his soft hands tightly round your neck and regularly whispers: ‘I love you so much I will give you a thousand kisses, Mummy’, is it? I don’t believe he is more loved, but there are times when he is more loveable.

This is the inevitable ebb and flow of parental love, though, isn’t it? Because while you dare not admit who’s your favourite (if you have one) there are moments when you can definitely identify your least favourite.
After his birthday party (where he was trailed around by his almost exclusively female gang of friends like a mini Hugh Hefner), I opened the paper to read about a survey that revealed 59 per cent of parents favoured their youngest children.

Earlier this year, American science writer Jeffrey Kluger’s controversial book The Sibling Effect claimed 95 per cent of parents had a favourite.
When I discussed this with other mums at the school gates, many nodded knowingly. They didn’t have favourites, they assured me, but they knew who their parents’ favourite had been (and sometimes still were).

Many regaled me with tales of how their youngest brothers seemed to be on a pedestal in their mum’s eyes. One explaining how no one showered until he’d had his hot water first. Another wistfully told me her mum still picks out all the best roast potatoes at Christmas dinner for her little brother (6 ft and 28 now).

Perhaps mums appear to love boys more because the male toddler is so very tactile, all chocolate and cheeky grins? At the Bank of Family Love, you can withdraw as much as you put in with boys, I’ve found. It’s more complicated with girls. ‘Even Baby Mabel thinks you love him more,’ Gracie-in-the-middle told me. Baby Mabel is still surprised when she sees her own feet so this argument didn’t stack up.

I realised it was the birthday attention he received that prompted their wild accusations that if there was a house fire I’d save him first (Girls can be so dramatic — I’d save my handbags first, obviously!). I told Gracie everyone has their moment in the love spotlight and his was this week when he celebrated turning five. ‘No one is my favourite,’ I reiterated.

We went through the reasons I love her and her sister. Then we all had a chocolate hobnob and watched X Factor on the sofa together, which seems to be a cure-all activity. ‘So did Granny or Grandma have a favourite then?’ Gracie asked. ‘Yes,’ my husband and I replied in tandem.

Lorraine Candy is the editor-in-chief of Elle magazine