So Gabe, almost 5, has hit that age where Dad is always right. Dad knows better than me how to fix things (fair enough), how to make stuff out of wood (ditto), how to cycle (he’s got a point), cook (groundless), drive (utterly without evidence) and now about all matters financial (laughable). We’re heading for the age where mum is obsolete and Dad is all and, as is often the case, it’s half a relief and half devastating.
I guess it’s just another challenge, something I was unprepared to deal with with such frequency. When Jude lost his beloved Chitty Chitty Bang Bang miniature replica I was gutted for him and went to fetch the spare (they came in a pack of 3!) but Nige said he needed to learn ‘how to deal with disappointment’. We then had a half hour debate about this particular point; my view was that 2 and a half might be too young for such a tough lesson (one I have enormous trouble dealing with myself). Needless to say by the time we’d reached some sort of resolution he’d found the car and our healthy debate was obsolete.