My mother got a bachelor’s degree in psychology. After that, she passed the bar and became a lawyer in California. After that, she went into army intelligence and became an interrogator, which she now trains up and coming soldiers to do. It was a very, very, very long time before I was able to argue with my mother.
That is not quite true, as we have always argued in the way parents do with children (e.g. “Yes you will.” “No I won’t.” sorta thing). However, it was a very long time before I could win an argument with my mother. She could walk up to me, tell me that she was wrong and that I was right, and then we would argue and I would still lose. Later, as I was sitting in the corner or banished to my room, I would wonder how I could have ended up in trouble when she admitted her wrongdoing at the very beginning. I just chocked it up to her being some sort of witch (I searched endlessly for a cauldron), but I have come to realize it was simply her training.
We don’t really argue anymore, and I have gotten better at keeping my ground, but I still think back to those times with a sort of reverence. Even when she was forcing me to do the dishes or take out the trash and my young and selfish mind would focus on the “unfairness” of it all, I would still have to stand back in awe with her abilities. My mother has never ceased to amaze me.On a separate note, to get back at her for twisting my words into weapons, I would rearrange all the furniture and stack all of her shoes in a big pile at the front door. This battle still goes on today.