I'm right, you're wrong.

I like to think that I'm right about pretty much everything. I especially don't like it when someone tells me I'm wrong. But when a 4-year-old tells it to you, it doesn't seem nearly as harsh as if an adult had said the same thing.

Last week Parks was looking for the shirt to a pair of his pajamas. He asked me to help him find it. As I'm searching through his pajama drawer, he says, "Mom, I think it's in my summer drawer since it has short sleeves." I say, "No, I'm sure we left it with its matching pants." Parks responded, very matter-of-factly, "No mom. I'm right and you're wrong." So we searched in his summer drawer and found it. He was right, and I was wrong. I found it a little humorous that he would put it so bluntly though.

Now the only question left to ask is if he knew exactly where the shirt was to begin with, why did he send me on a wild goose chase to find it?