I only raise the argument because it is I who appears to be on the unfavourable end of my child’s affections. Perhaps it’s that I have raised him to be so well adjusted when it comes to him Mummy, or perhaps Daddy truly is a more perfectly packaged parent than I? Whatever the case, I cant help but get the distinct feeling I am further down the popularity ladder than I’d like to think.
Most working mothers will attest to tears at the time when they farewell their child on the way out the door. Not in my house. Oh no. Instead, Harrison sees fit to utter a rather blasé “buh-bye” just as I reach over the swoop my handbag on to my shoulder. Yet his father, upon doing anything that resembles making an approach towards the vicinity of the front door, unleashes a torrent of tears and inconsolable sobs, apparently utterly distraught at the thought of his Daddy departing for the day. He might merely be taking the rubbish out and be back in 5 minutes, but that does not appease my son, oh no. Letting loose with a sob that would crack the veneer of a heart of stone, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was the last time he was going see his father for a month!
It then begs the question: have we been pigeonholed? Am I the authoritarian and Daddy the fun loving parent? Does he represent tickles, giggles, rowdy rumbles and crazy “chasies”? Do I simply symbolise strictness and suitably boring activities as, oh, I don’t know, eating, sleeping and being dragged to the shops in the pram?
Or is it because I chose to go back to the (paid) working world? Perhaps this is my son’s way of punishing me for sending him to day-care???