Two of my children have spent much of this, the first week of summer, arguing with me. I don’t believe they are trying to be difficult.
They are trying to get their way. And they will try every available avenue before blazing a new trail, if necessary, until they have succeeded. I have to admire their tenacity, even as I want to banish them to a rickety attic space like Cinderella’s bedroom so I can be in my house without having to constantly listen to all the reasons I am wrong and they are right.
I’m at a point where I want to take them by the shoulders, look into their eyes, and say, “I’m really glad you understand the principles of argumentation and rhetoric, and that you are a whiz at trouble-shooting and thinking outside the box. And I’m happy that you are intimately acquainted with the quality of persistence. But if we are all going to peaceably coexist this long summer, you’ve got to back off.”
I haven’t done this. I will be met with more arguing.