"Hey that's just like the shirt Gramma and Grampa gave her last week,"
she said.

"Oh, I don't think so, ha ha," I said, pleading with my eyes not to
persist.

"Yes it is," she persisted, annoyed that I could have forgotten
already. "Remember Gramma said it only cost fourteen--"

"How 'bout some cupcakes!" I said.

Parenting up to a certain age is physically exhausting but relatively
simple. You teach in black and white terms. Always be honest. Never put
the cat in the microwave. Then just when you start getting enough sleep
again the job becomes intellectually exhausting, because although like
everyone else you have learned to navigate the gray areas and outright
inconsistencies of the real world through years of trial and error,
you are now expected to actually explain and defend the rules out loud
to a newbie, which requires such hilariously tortured logic that you
eventually lose all credibility with her.

For a year or two she tries to play along but it doesn't help. Once she
discovers that rules have exceptions she becomes obsessed with unearthing
every exception to every rule you've ever taught her.

"Dad, what would you do if I was kidnapped and they said I could only
go if you put the cat in the microwave?"

"That would never happen honey."

"But what would you do?"

"I guess I'd have to put him in the microwave. But of course that would
never--"

"What if he was already dead, and he wasn't your cat?"

"Honey I'm trying to drive."

"If you told me I had to rob a bank should I do it?"

"No."

"Even if you threatened to put our cat in the--"

"I'm turning on the radio now."

"Daddy I know this would never happen, but just, what if I kidnapped a
cat and locked him in a bank--"

"La la la--"

"--and the President said you had to pay a million dollars or he would
put Jesus in a microwave--"

"I'm getting out of the car now."

"We're on the highway Daddy."

These sadistic inquisitions may turn your brain to mush but at least
during this phase the child still logs your answers and accepts them
as authoritative. The next phase is worse, because she not only demands
answers to impossible questions of ethics and manners but calls you on
their stupidity. You've made a point of avoiding lawyers all your life
and suddenly you live with Rudy Giuliani.

"So Dad, you're saying I'm not allowed to use that word because I'm a
child and children don't talk like that. But the only reason they don't
is because they aren't allowed to."

"Honey I'm trying to drive--"

"If children were allowed to say that word, then it's something children
would say and it wouldn't be impolite anymore."

"La la la--"

"So by not allowing me to use that word you're making me impolite."

"I'm getting out now."

"We're in a car wash Dad."

Dishonest people are reviled, yet lying by omission is okay sometimes,
and lying through your teeth is mandatory when talking about Aunt Jean's
rhubarb sandwiches. Just because everyone else has her nose pierced
doesn't mean you should too; march to your own tune for God's sake. You
don't like this shirt? I spent all weekend looking for a nice summer shirt
for you. It's fine, trust me, it's what everyone else is wearing. If you
eat french fries and cookies all day you'll get fat. Man those Bratz dolls
are freakishly skinny. Honey we're late, would you just choose a pair
of shoes already? Nobody cares how you look. Hang on, you can't go out
with your hair like that--they'll think you escaped from an institution.

The morning it dawns on her that neither you nor her teachers nor any
other adult can really explain why imaginary numbers are important, or
why Paris Hilton is so famous, or how to endure a full day of adolescence
without wishing the earth would open up and swallow you away from the
pressures and the mocking laughter and unrequited desires of every
kind--that's when the third and worst phase begins. The questions stop,
the debating stops, and she simply pushes her boat off the dock and
leaves you there to watch her float off into the storm on her own.

She won't sink, and in time she'll come back, I know. But she won't be
the same. She'll be initiated, tempered like the rest of us.

It's no wonder we're so tolerant of our youngest child, even when she
puts the cat in the microwave.

John Lengyel lives in Cohasset, and is currently training hard for
an August drive to Toronto with his oldest daughter by learning to
distinguish between the voices of Gwen Stefani, Kelly Clarkson, Nelly
Furtado, and Justin Timberlake.