The sport of parenting

I have a very funny husband.  It's one of the things that keeps me sane.  I was telling him about the frustrating morning I'd had with the little girls - meltdown over the absurd, the kick in the face while changing a diaper, accidental cursing out loud, etc.  His response, "I know, I've been there. Parenting is a contact sport filled with trash talk and psychological games." 

Oh, so very true.  I have the headache and fat lip to show for it.

Violet's latest thing is telling us we're wrong about stuff (i.e., psychological games).  Violet, the Earth revolves around the sun.  No, Mommy, you're wrong, the sun is just a figment of your imagination, the Earth spins only for me.  It drives me crazy.  She asks me questions, I give her answers and she tells me I'm completely wrong.  I know it's a part of her growth and development, I know it's normal.  But does she have to be so smug?  Sometimes when she's telling me some elaborate crazy thing I'll just give her the nod and smile.  So what if she grows up thinking Greg is my boyfriend or that 3-year-old preschool is on Sundays and Wednesdays.   It's not going to scar her too much, right? 

With Lorelei I would explain things and she would have this little light bulb of knowledge above her head (sure she went through a bit of the know-it-all phase, but not as much as Violet).  With Violet I explain things and she takes whatever I've said, changes the first letter of every third word and makes it her own crafty bit of nonsense.  Lorelei was like a little sponge soaking up facts and information.  Violet is like those bracelets Wonder Woman wears - deflecting stuff left and right. 

Every kid is different and that is wonderful, but damn, it is a pain constantly revamping all those parenting skills you learned with the first kid.  Just when you think you know something a four-year-old comes along to prove you wrong.