A conversation with my daughter

I just completed a thoroughly satisfying argument with Daughter One, on a subject concerning which we were each fervent in trying to win over the other. Naturally, I prevailed because my position was correct and supported by the facts. Of course, One remains unconvinced of this, owing to the insufficiency of passed time to have allowed her the distance to realize the errors in her reasoning and the elegance of mine own.

It is not the primacy of my logic of which I take up pen to crow this evening. Nor is it the unassailable nature of my formation of my points, although they were things of rhetorical beauty, I assure you.

What floats my boat is that this young woman whose diapers I once cleaned has become a person with whom I can enjoy such intelligent discourse. I dearly love respectful argumentation and tonight she provided it in spades. She had points and counterpoints in depth and she matched me, thrust and parry. Didn’t get angry or hurt, resort to invective or logical fallacy, kept up her end and challenged mine.

She held her own.

‘Course, she was wrong. ‘Cause I was right.