My four-year-old daughter is tired of experts. One expert in particular.

“I’m sorry, you cannot wear your bunny ears to school,” I say sorrowfully. I happen to know that this is true. It is not something I’m particularly happy about, I’m just trying to communicate my expert knowledge. My daughter is not happy.

“But I want to!”

“I’m sorry, you can’t. It’s against the uniform code.”

My daughter makes a sound like an angry cat. This sound is bad because it signals that she has decided to ignore reality and make the next half hour before school drop off a nightmare.

Luckily, I have a very specific skill set. So specific that they are useless in any circumstance other than talking down my impossible to talk down daughter. I find her. She responds with more angry cat sounds.

“I’ll make a deal with you. You can take your bunny ears to school, but, you must ask your teacher if you are allowed to wear them, and if your teacher says no, you have to be nice and put the ears in your school bag until you come home.”

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There is silence. This is a good sign.

“OK,” She says finally.

Later I ask her whether her teacher let her wear her bunny ears.

“No,” She says angrily. Admittedly passing the buck to the poor teacher is not the most courageous parenting technique, but I’m quite pleased with myself anyway.

The next morning she appears with the bunny ears on her head. I sigh.

“You know you can’t wear your bunny ears to school, don’t you?”

“Yes I can. It’s non-uniform day.”

I do some panicked checking. Turns out she’s right about two things. She can wear her bunny ears to school today, and I am a rubbish expert.