When Anna was 6 years old, we got into a big argument over who knows what. No matter what you think going in, how much success you had in your high school debate class, your degrees from college and grad school, your years of work experience, a debate with a child invariably sinks to their level and you end up saying things like “so there!” and engaging in endless rounds of “No I didn’t”, “yes you did!”… but I digress.
We parried, thrusted, salvo after salvo. At one point I said to Anna with great conviction, “You’re SO wrong. Wanna bet on it?”. I was expecting immediate capitulation. Instead I got cool appraisal. For at least a minute. It was unsettling. She ended her once-over by looking deep into my eyes. Without breaking eye contact she said, “Sure”.
Intrigued with where this might go I asked, “What do you want to bet?”
Her prompt reply: “One million dollars.”
I had her now…I controlled her allowance! There was no WAY she had that kind of money.
“Ha! You can’t do that…you don’t HAVE a million dollars!” And I sat back smugly.
Nonplussed and even a bit bored, she said, “I don’t need a million dollars. I know I’m right.”
Game, set, and match: Anna. No more Father Knows Best. The new show is Daddy, Bested Yet Again.