As many parents have discovered, there’s a point in time (usually sometime in the evening before/during/after the bedtime rituals have begun) where you find your voice rising with small flecks of anger and frustration embedded in the cold iron of your parenting. At the same time, you’re desperately trying to suppress a bubbling laughter as a small nude terrorist who happens to be related to you by blood crosses his or her arms and sticks out their bottom lip in defiance.
It’s an interesting point of inflection.
