My Kate

It's funny how the things your parents said come back to haunt you.

When I was growing up, my mom use to incessantly remind me that she was the mother and I was the daughter and that I should pay her a little respect.  As I got a bit arrogant in my teen years, I told her that she needed to earn my respect first.  I spent a good chunk of time being grounded mostly for my cocky attitude and my equally spiteful tongue.

And now, I have a four-year old daughter who is giving me a run for my money.  She started reading at the age of three, which means that I can no longer spell words aloud that I don't want her to hear.  She mimics my verbage and enjoys telling me on a regular basis that she's not interested in engaging my questions.

Most recently, we were at Target and she asked, "If I'm good while we're shopping, can I get a toy?"  To which I replied, "Not today." and she followed up with an immediate, "That's jacked."

She's also been fascinated with anatomical body parts.  She's known from a young age that she has a vagina and has no problems asking questions about it in public or making comments in front of her friends.  When she was three, she asked me why I had a spiky vagina and then asked her friend if her vagina tickles right before she goes potty too?

Kate is a magical, remarkable, beautiful, handful of a child...which is exactly what I'm sure my mother must have thought of me.

As she grows and discovers what is most important to her, my hope is that she never loses her strong sense of self while at the same time curbing her acidic approach.  I have a feeling that we have many battles ahead of us.  I hope we can battle intelligently, kindly, and ultimately, lovingly.  Because right now, I sort of want to kick her ass...in the most loving way.