Oh yes, the time has arrived.
Evolution dictates that this day would inevitably come.
The time when the child, my daughter in this case, unequivocally mutates from a baby or toddler into a ‘mini adult’.
All part of the process of growing up I hear you say? Meh.
Do you know how I can tell that this milestone in her childhood has indeed bounded through the front door of my own house?
She’s now got to the stage where she can verbalise perfectly enough to engage in conflict. Yes, she has started arguing with Daddy.
Is this a woman thing, can I ask? Are you really programmed to learn to argue before you are fully toilet trained and trusted to walk through a town centre unattached?
I’m baffled. I don’t quite know how to handle this situation either. If it is human, sorry, woman nature, then there’s no way that I control or even reduce the need to ‘backchat’.
Do I just admit defeat from the beginning?
Fair enough, every argument she tries to engage in or start is quickly dissolved, because daddy has a louder voice.
But she’s two.
She won’t be two forever.