During a debate with my 4 year old daughter tonight, a ritual during dinner on most nights, she told me she knew more about the bible than I did. The gauntlet had been thrown. The gloves were off. I should have turned the other cheek.

"Why", I asked?

"Cause you don't know very much cause you're only 10", a dig at being a leap year baby.

Two can play that game. "I know more than a 4 year old because 10 is bigger than 4". The wheels begin to turn as she considers deflecting the math argument because she is not as versed in this area. Little does she know that daddy was not sure of the bold statement either.

"Well, Jesus doesn't like it when you're mean to me". Something I'm sure she learned at school. The "being mean" card.

The 3 year old is stuffing as much macaroni and cheese he can possibly put in a 3 year old mouth and sitting there in judgment. Mommy has bitten through the bottom lip and is trying not to blow milk through her nose.

"I'll take that up with Jesus the next time I'm talking to him," I quickly rebutted.

She makes me talk to him constantly, and my son thinks his name is Jesus. I always ask my son "Jesus! What are you doing?" He usually responds, "Fine".

"Oh yeah? But I know his number and I'll call him if you're not nice to me", she said without missing a beat. Suddenly, I remembered Santa Claus and the famous "if your not nice, I'll call him" coup. I am now looking at my butt in case there are bite marks. The prosecution rested.

I had lost, she had beaten me again with my own words and logical argument. Snickering at me over the corn dog stick in her hand, like the devil incarnate.

Even the 3 year old laughed and said "Daddy you silwy!".

I did what any other self respecting father would do, "Just eat your dinner or your going for a timeout". Pull rank.

We have started the legal education fund for my daughter, you are welcome to contribute.