Fortunate Son

As anyone who knows me would guess, I am my parents' favorite child. Anyone who has met my only sibling, Lisa, however, would be positively sure I am the favorite. Lisa and I are both well aware of my most-favored-child status. And we're cool with it. We even joke about it, with me doing something genius and then saying, "That's why I'm Mom and Dad's favorite!" and Lisa pretending to get upset and producing incredibly convincing-looking tears.

Part of the reason I'm my parents' favorite is that I've known them eight years longer than Lisa has. Plus, as a male, I am carrying on the family name, which is very, very beautiful. Also, I am famous. While most parents will never know if they chose the right child as a favorite, mine can rest easy knowing that America agrees with them.

Lisa, however, still believes their favoritism is grossly unjust. "It was always, 'This is our famous son Joel! He writes for TIME and is on TV! And, oh yeah, this is our daughter Lisa,'" she told me. "Even in high school they were saying, 'Oh, he's biking around Europe.' And I was like, 'Yeah, you paid for him to bike around Europe! He's not in the Tour de France.'"

You would think she would be over this, since she's got a kid, a career as a divorce lawyer and, I'm sure, other stuff too. We are, in fact, at the age at which we're fighting not for our parents' attention but to divert their unlimited night and weekend cell-phone minutes toward each other. But even though it serves no advantage, the fact that I was the favorite still comes up. "To this day, you'll say some snide comment and it's 'Ah ha ha ha, Joel's so funny!' I'll say the same thing, albeit in a different tone, and it's 'Lisa's so mean.'" Let me mention again that Lisa is a lawyer.

What she can't appreciate is that there's a lot of pressure on the favorite. Like sometimes I'll forget to tell them I'm on TV, and one of their friends will mention it, and then they're mad at me. Also, I carry around guilt knowing they probably have constant nightmares about me getting hurt.

Though I've never told Lisa, there have been dark moments when I've questioned my status as the favorite. Those moments are whenever our parents give us anything. Unlike me, Lisa got a TV in her room. They paid for her wedding. Her bat mitzvah was at a banquet hall and included a cotton-candy stand, a guy airbrushing T-shirts and the words LISA ON BROADWAY spelled out in lightbulbs. My bar mitzvah had a row of balloons, vaguely in the shape of a rainbow, pressed against the wood-paneled wall of our temple. Until not long ago, my mom paid Lisa's cell-phone bill. Which makes no sense considering my mom obviously would much rather talk to me.

My sister, however, says this tangible evidence in no way demonstrates parental preference: "It feels like the opposite," she says. "It's 'Good for Joel, making $300,000 a year,' and 'Poor Lisa needs help with her cell phone.'" I was starting to see how, if I had two kids, I would prefer the one who didn't grow up to be a lawyer.