I took offense and parroted the words back to her. She said, "You don't understand!" I parroted back her words again, and then the doorbell rang and I had to get it. I told her we'd talk about it in a few minutes. I left her crying at the table. I felt justified. I took care of the business at the door in about 10 minutes, and as I walked back into the house, I caught up with her in the play room. I asked her what I didn't understand. Turns out that I had answered in the affirmative, and she had thought I answered in the negative, which fueled her offensive response.
Turns out I was a big oaf. I was reminded, again, that nobody means to be offensive. If I take offense at something, I have to take the effort to confirm that the sentiment I understood was the sentiment conveyed. In this case, it wasn't. I apologized. I told her I should not have gotten angry, and I labeled the incident a miscommunication. We hugged, she forgave me, we moved on.
Moments like that are one of parenting's biggest perks. It really makes me a better person all around. As a follow on, just yesterday or the day before I heard Aria remark in passing that she had had a miscommunication with someone. What a kid.
Also - I found out by accident (I do this sometimes just for fun) that Aria can do fractions now. We were measuring to hang up a mirror in her bedroom, and I asked her what 18 - 4 1/2 was. She gave me the right answer. Then I asked her what half of 4 1/2 was. Again, she was right. Cool.
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