Are We There Yet?
Time for the old reliable: 'Don't you sass me'
Lori Clinch

Although I'm reluctant to admit it, my kids are getting to the age where they can quite easily get the mental best of me.

They seem to know more than I do, understand concepts better than I do, and comparing my memory to theirs is like comparing prime rib to a bowl of corned beef hash.

I guess I always knew the day would come when I'd have to take a back seat to their judgment. I just thought I could put it off until after they had all completed their formal educations and perhaps long stints at medical school.

There was a time when I could "wow" them with my wisdom. I marveled them with my knowledge of complete sentences and my ability to add single digits. When I didn't have the answers, I could make up explanations and theories and they would be none the wiser.

Nowadays when I try explaining things, they simply pat me on the back, roll their eyes and ask me if I'm ready for my afternoon nap.

Worse yet, I've found that the only way I can win an argument with my kids is by ending it with "Don't you sass me." Then there's the No. 1 argument terminator and parental comeback of all time, the old mainstay itself - "Because I said so."

It would certainly be easier to match wits with the kids if I could rely on my memory. For instance, just the other day I told my eldest son to fetch me his gym bag.

"It's in the car," he replied without taking his eyes off the TV.

"Well," I said in my best no-nonsense tone, "go and get it."

"I would, except I don't have my shoes on."

"Unless you went to great lengths to put your shoes away in your closet, they're probably pretty handy. Now put them on and go get your gym bag."

"I just don't understand why you need my gym bag."

"Because it has dirty clothes and I'm sure it smells."

"But my gym bag doesn't smell."

"So if I were to go out to the vehicle and find your gym bag is full of dirty clothes that smell, then I could ground you for a month."

"But I have no dirty clothes. You just washed them all, folded them neatly and placed a fabric sheet on the side as you explained the importance of preserving that 'just-laundered freshness.' "

Naturally I didn't recollect laundering them, or placing the fabric sheet on the side. Since I could think of no response, I simply spat out, "Don't you sass me," and walked away.

I don't mind the day-to-day stuff so much, but all of a sudden the kids are using their wits to talk me out of money, and that scares me to death.

For instance, just the other day one of the little swindlers started his manipulations by giving me a loving look that was followed with a warm embrace. He held me just a moment before he asked, "Mom, can I get the $30 that you owe me?"

"What do I owe you $30 for?" I asked as I pulled away.

"Cuz I bought paint balls."

"And how does this become my debt?"

"Well, I can't pay for them myself," responded my little shyster with great drama. "After all, I'm a struggling middle school student."

"Then I suggest you talk to your father about it," I responded. Then I added with a knowing chuckle, "Good luck with that!"

"Dad," I heard that dang kid call down the hall, "can you give me the $30 that mom owes me?"

Instead of responding to his son, my husband walked around the corner and looked directly at me before exclaiming with disgust, "Thirty dollars? What are you doing spending money like that?"

"But I didn't spend the money. Huey spent the money."

"Here's the deal," Huey responded, and it was quite obvious that we were about to be swindled. "You people spent 230 bucks on Little Charlie's cavities. I, on the other hand, go to great lengths by brushing, flossing and taking the time to polish my pearly whites and all to save you people from this kind of expense. Can you honestly sit there and tell me that my efforts aren't worth some form of cash compensation?"

I'm sure that somewhere in my comeback repertoire I have a great answer for that. I just wish I could remember what it was.

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.