I just had an argument with my seven-year old niece that lasted way too long. She was telling me about her friend’s mother, who according to her, is from a neighborhood in New York called ”Da Bonks”. I corrected her, as any adult would, and explained that the neighborhood was actually called “The Bronx”. She looked at me like I was stupid, and very carefully, as if I were a child, explained to me that I didn’t know what I was talking about. After all, she had a friend with a mother from this mysterious place, not me. This went back and forth for fifteen, twenty minutes. Finally, I threw a tantrum and asserted myself. I was an adult, she was a child, and therefor I always knew more than her. I’m an adult? Really? That’s when I realized I had become one of them.
