If you’re a parent, you’re wrong.

Anyone with kids knows that it’s a gamut of stages, some of which are great, others that leave us perplexed. Right now Bast is frustrating me with a stage I thought would come much later.

The Mum Is Wrong About Everything stage.

Nothing I can do or say is correct, even if I’m not speaking to her. I tell Artemis she doesn’t have time for video games before school; Bast will argue she’s got plenty. I ask Elen to put her bowl in the sink; Bast has a reason why it can stay on the table.

And if I expect anything at all from Bast herself? Prepare for a fight. There will always be twenty reasons why she can’t, won’t, or shouldn’t. Whatever my gripe is, it was probably the other kids’ fault anyway. 

But, you know what? I’m good at this parenting shit now. I can stay the course. Most of the time I can out-argue her without resorting to “because I said so!” Like, your mum’s a Taurus, kid. You’re not going to win a duel of the stubborn. 

Most of the time I try to hear her out. I’m willing to be wrong, and perpetually late, too. I want my kids to be able to reason with people. I don’t want them to just go along with whatever anyone says, too afraid to advocate for themselves, but it’s getting out of hand, and now I can prove it.

The other day I planned us a nice afternoon, testing out the secret to afternoon happiness for you witches, and so with dinner in the slow cooker I set off to pick up the goddesses from school.

Artemis greeted me enthusiastically, and read my mind. “Can we go for ice cream sandwiches?” Bloody oath we can, kiddo.

There’s a perfect half hour block between school and jujitsu that fits coffee and ice cream, leaving just enough time to get their gis on. Energised by the prospect she runs to Bast’s pick-up point to break the news.

Bast approaches with flashing eyes and thunderclouds caught on her eyebrows. That’s how I know I’m in for it.

“But mum, do you have snacks in your bag for now?”

“No, I planned to take you out for ice cream.”

“But Mum…

• I want something now, while we wait for the bus.
• What if we don’t have time to get changed?
• Do you really think ice cream is a good idea?
• Why can’t we have ice cream after jujitsu? We could walk home if the bus won’t let us on. Don’t worry about dinner, I don’t want dinner.”

I offered that we could buy the ice cream sandwiches and take them home to have for dessert instead, but that was unacceptable because then there wouldn’t be a treat and desert in one day. Absolutely out of the question. Honestly, what was I thinking? The audacity!

Full on, all out crying. There were more arguments than I could count or remember in order to list here. I couldn’t believe it.

The questions continued throughout the bus ride and into the next suburb, with Bast getting more and more worked up until she didn’t know if she wanted ice cream at all. And me? I sure as hell didn’t want to buy them anything.

We piled off the bus with Bast valiantly trying to pull herself together before everyone got served with carrot sticks or worse – big fat nothin’.

That’s it folks. Mummy is so wrong, it’s unintelligible.

In the end I stuck to the plan, hoping I could turn her sour mood around, and not wanting to punish the other two (either by deprivation, or simply by having to listen to any more of her ridiculous tears.) But for the love of all that’s holy, I can’t wait for this stage to be over!

Are you wrong too?

Miriam Cumming is an avid reader and a lover of all things fantasy. She writes books for teens, particularly those who feel outcast or different from their peers, helping them to discover their unique strengths through the struggles of their favourite fictional characters. When she’s not writing or arguing with her six-year-old, Miriam watches My Little Pony and sings badly out of tune. You can follow her adventures on Facebook.