On This Hill I Am Willing To Die

Normally, I do not consider my children "strong-willed," which could be symptomatic of my weak-will as a mother.  I mean, there's nothing to fight about when you get your own way all the time.  That's one possibility.  Another is that we've all just adjusted to each other and they know what to expect and I know what to expect and so there's no use getting all in a crumple about stuff that doesn't really matter.
We rarely have discussions about what really matters except when there is a difference between what I think really matters and what my children think really matters.  Normally these kinds of conversations do not get too out of hand because we give lots of choices that strongly encourage our kids to see things our way.  ("I know you don't think it matters to eat your vegetables and that's fine, but daddy and I don't think it matters to eat dessert so it's your choice," for example.)

Mostly, we don't make our kids do things and yet we have pretty helpful, responsible kids who do their chores and obey the rules at school and eat their vegetables.

There is one thing we force our children to do and this has summoned the strong-will of our young son, which emerges with Hulk-like fury.

I've heard it said by wiser mothers that when dealing with a strong-willed child, one ought not engage in a battle unless one is willing to die on that hill.  I like that advice.  The one thing Bo and I have decided our kids will do, no matter what, is become strong swimmers.  That's not to say that if they become ax murderers, but they can swim we'll be satisfied as parents, but you know what I mean--it's a non-negotiable.  Pretty much, every summer they can count on taking swim lessons or joining swim team or some kind of organized swimming instruction that will improve their water safety and swimming ability until, at some point, we have deemed them not-likely-to-drown-in-open-water and they can graduate from this family requirement.

Apparently, we have a difference of opinion about whether or not "becoming a strong swimmer through organized instruction" matters.  The hard-fought battle ended with a pizza party to celebrate the completion of swim lessons, but may I admit that mama almost went down in that war plane?  Seriously.  At 7 years of age, the weapon systems have become so advanced that I almost don't realize I'm being shot down.  When Hulk didn't win, he employed Black Widow, that manipulative spy who let's you think you are doing the interrogation when in reality, you are the one being interrogated.  Sneaky.  How does a 7 year old become a master manipulator?  I don't know, but I've got one on my hands and he is gooood.  I can simultaneously cringe and beam with pride when I write that because I do want my kids to strive for excellence and he could become an excellent spy someday wearing down the defenses of the enemy through his cunning...that is, if he doesn't use his talents to become an ax murderer.  I must remind him of always using his abilities for good.

For those of you with real strong-willed children, may your war plane stay air-worthy and your kids become strong swimmers!