It’s one thing to want to raise thinking adults by encouraging them to speak up, be comfortable in their own skins and, well, think for themselves.
It’s quite another to be confronted with a wall of sass.
I don’t like it. I don’t like rude kids.
Raising kids who are thinkers and dare to speak their minds, while remaining polite and respectful to their elders or superiors, is crazy difficult.
Me, having never been much of a thinker, much less argumentative, am not quite sure what to make of it.
Any bystander would think I was being bullied by my own kids. Generally, I don’t win arguments and I avoid them at all costs.
Me: I thought you didn’t like those bags.
Jo: Haiya, so? I changed my mind. Some people do change their minds, you know.
Me: Boy, you are rather spoilt.
Day: Whatever. (silence and contrition would have been nice)
Day: Mum are you cooking dinner?
Me: No. I’m too lazy. And your papa refuses to wash the dishes on weekends. I hope you remember to always help your wife out in future.
Day: It’s OK I won’t have kids.
Me: Why not?
Day: Because I bath in really hot water and all my sperm would be dead.