Is the word favorite a superlative? I used to think so, in my sometimes narrow-minded way of looking at words. I used to think that there could only be one “favorite” anything…that’s why it was the favorite. Of course, I was wrong. We talk about our “favorites,” we save “favorites” to our computer browser, and–if you’re of an age–we even remember Julie Andrews singing about a few of her “favorite things.” (If you hum that for the next few hours, you’re welcome.)
As I’m writing this, my daughter and our grandchildren are on their way over for breakfast. They’re going to get out of the car, the youngest one is probably going to shout “Nana!” when she sees my wife, and it’s not uncommon for the four-year-old to call out, “Grandpa!” as she launches into a sentence or two about whatever is going through her young mind at the time. My daughter will say, “Hey, dad” as she gives me a hug.
“Dad,” “Grandpa,” “Honey.” “Husband.” “Son.” Julie, these are a few of my favorite things.