One day, you will hate me. You won’t be happy with me for some reason or another.
“No way, Daddy. Nope.”
Seriously. It’s okay. It’s normal. I’ll have to say no to something you want.
A toy.
Some makeup or clothes.
A boy.
“No way,” they both said in unison.
I smiled. “I love your certainty, girls. I really do. Makes my little heart happy.”
They were 8 and 6 at the time. I was trying to prepare them for the likely reality that one day, we’d be at odds. I had seen it happen in every family I knew—parents and children inevitably butting heads, disagreeing over something until it got fugly.
And I mean fugly.
Years passed.
It never got fugly. Not even a little.
Sure, we had complications. Challenges. Emotional conversations and debates. But not once did our connection suffer downtime. Not once did it get fugly.
I was wrong. My girls were right.
And I’ve never been so happy to be proven wrong.
