"Time's on my side, Lor."
Thus spake my six year old just now, quite calmly, as we were engaging in a rare bedtime battle. I was trying to impress upon him the idea that my will is adamant, that there was no way he could wear me down. There was no way in the world I would be bringing him a chewy multivitamin, another strawberry, a tall glass of milk, one of his 17 thousand puffles, a new/cooler pillow, a flashlight, his water pistol, a skipping rope, the "J" volume of Encyclopedia Britannica.
I finished my rant and there was silence on the other side of the door. There still is, as I write this. I'm sitting here in silence thinking about the undeniable fact that time is, in fact, on his side and not mine.
And that one day all I will wish for is to be able to bring him a tall glass of milk and his water pistol.