Olivia has discovered the rush that comes from a good argument. Or rather, from any argument at all.
In the past couple of months my lovely, acquiescent child has turned into the girl who argues about everything. Everything. Seriously. If I tell her that her hair is blond, she’ll argue that no, it’s not blond, it’s lightest brown. If Tom tells her that he favorite television show, Cops, is on, she’ll yell that it’s not Cops, it’s Cops RELOADED.
I blame Tom for this. He started it over a year ago by saying things wrong deliberately so that O would correct him. He liked how adamant she got when she was doing the correcting and, he asserted, it made her talk that much more, which is good for her.
Alas, he’s created a monster who refuses to consider the idea that she might ever be wrong. She corrects us constantly and yet argues to the point of insanity when we gently let her know that her correction was not only not needed but also not correct. Seven year olds are really hard to convince they’re wrong.
I love that she has strong convictions but I sort of wish she didn’t have to use those convictions against me so often.