The Favourite - The parenting taboo that dare not speak its name

Like most parents I swore blind before junior arrived that I would preserve his privacy with my life. I scoffed and scorned at those parents who documented every moment of their child’s life riding roughshod on their child’s autonomy over their personhood. Needless to say, two years down the track, I had to promise my wife I would pay a £1,000 fine if I put another picture of our child on Instagram. Sharenting doesn’t come close: this was true #nofilter voluntary intrusion on our child’s privacy.

Still - there’s the evidence of my love for him. Not for me the wistful photographs of pints and champagne flutes and fond reminiscing of when I was footloose and fancy-free. So much have the traditional taboos been broken down that these days one occasionally sees pieces in the papers from parents prepared to go public that having kids was the worst thing that they ever did and they wish them away every moment. Although, notably, these articles seem to be confined to when the children in question are not yet at school to be confronted with the documentary evidence that that they were a terrible mistake and constant source of regret.

There remains still one topic that even the boldest parent will not own to and that is favourites. We have favourite colours, favourite ice cream flavours, favourite football teams and we have our favourite child. I thought I should write this post now, when we have only one, and there can be no doubt that my one and only really is my one and only. (Although I have a slightly challenging theory that if your favourite child is not your firstborn then even when your first was your only child they were still not your favourite, but this is no place for philosophy).

Being the favourite is of course not an unalloyed blessing. Nothing in life is more galvanising than the realisation that you have to fight for attention. Also an awareness that you’re second best makes it much more likely that you will venture into the world with a clearer sense that nobody owes you anything. That being said if there are only two of you it must be hard not being the favourite. If inclinations were fairly calibrated it would obviously be equitable if one child was the favourite of one parent and the other of the other but, as we know, life’s not fair.

I’ve often thought in very large families, rarely found these days, that there must be a real sense of camaraderie in not being the favourite. After all if you’re one of eleven, as a Catholic priest friend of mine is, only one of you is going to be family captain. One thing that I think is important is to be reconciled to your status. Favourites are immutable and no endeavour is more bound to fail than a child’s attempt to usurp its sibling’s status.

Don’t whatever you do broach this as a topic with your parents, they will deny favouritism to their dying breath, all any good parent can do is seek to suppress those instincts lest the truth too uncomfortable rears its ugly head.

Harry, Here's How Its Done

So, you're a dad. And, as you observed, it is a wonder that women do what they do to give life. As I say, if you want to know how childbirth feels ask a mum, if you want to know what actually happened ask a dad. Not even a fortnight has passed and you will be realising that all those months thinking, worrying and meditating about the journey to base camp are as nothing compared to the climb ahead.

Your wife may be a duchess and a global figure but one thing she will share with all mothers is the 'benefit' of unsolicited advice. This pours in from all corners, often at the most unexpected times; although I suspect she won't be enjoying the unasked for mothering tips that often accompany a meltdown in the supermarket checkout queue.

You, on the other hand, may be spared much of this received wisdom. Most dads don't regale each other with advice on the best way to tie a baby sling. The mothers' WhatsApp group from our NCT class has generated more words than the Complete Works of Shakespeare, the fathers' group's collective output would struggle to complete a haiku and such content as there is amounts to a proposal for a father and child get together down the pub during the Six Nations.

You have the benefit of a brother and one that has ridden the rodeo three times, if he's feeling generous he might offer a few pointers. But if you really want to know how to be a better dad go and speak to a mother. Many mothers will offer the same advice: the mother's job is to look after the baby, your job is to look after the mother. Be very careful about interpreting this advice too literally. A few back rubs and the occasional bunch of flowers is definitely not going to cut the mustard.

In fact that advice is nonsense because the best thing you can do as a new dad is give your wife sleep and the only way you can do that is by looking after the baby. In principle this may seem a fair and obvious step to take but, as you will rapidly discover, it makes no allowance for what the baby wants. And if what the baby wants is its mum even your best effort at the three o'clock in the morning feed will end in dismal failure.

You, me and baby makes three. I often feel, when it comes to a woman's affections, that having a baby is a bit like losing the Boat Race. You come second and last. A lot of men aren't very good at talking about their feelings and, in particular, about what it is like having their place in their wife's heart dislodged by a mewling, puking infant. Well the answer is that it feels weird, unsettling and occasionally infuriating. You have become three but your wife's time for you will more than halve.

You will have to find a way to reconcile yourself to those feelings because this is forever. One way to ensure that you don't  become dislodged from the nest entirely is making sure that you pull your weight. This is easier said than done because another truism of being a dad is that no matter what you do with the child you will almost certainly do it wrong, even if you're doing it right, if, by chance, you are doing it right never, ever point out that you're doing it right. That is the most wrong thing of all.

Apparently you've changed some nappies, this is in fact one of the easiest things to get at least nearly right and if you really want to get ahead put yourself in sole charge of this, it's likely your wife will be prepared to delegate. On no account buy any clothes or dress the child without consultation. 

If you come, in a few months' time, to have any thoughts about bedtime routine I strongly counsel that you keep those thoughts in your head. Likewise never say how tired you are and, in particular, state or even imply that you might be more tired than your wife.

The most important thing is to enjoy yourself because, as I said, it's forever.