I'm not sure there's anything more difficult than a kid who's obsessed with winning.
I try to tell myself that "she's 5 and she's doing her job."
Oh fuck that. Who came up with that shit anyway? I don't care if it's "her job" - she's still driving me completely insane and turning me into the parent who just spouts off cliches while her 5-year-old daughter spikes a kid-sized mini golf putter at hole 11 like she's Tiger Woods having a bad first round.
"It's not about winning. It's how you play the game!"
Even my husband groaned.
Like he has room to talk Mr. "This Isn't Mini Golf, This is the US Open and So I Shall Bring my Own Putter and Tally my Score Because it Matters OH YES IT DOES."
It didn't matter anyway. She wasn't even looking at me. She was too busy stomping away to the next hole, her sweaty hair flopping on her shoulders and her princess shoes flashing like angry fireflies in the dusk light until she stopped and frantically attempted to tap her ball through the huge ceramic gorilla's legs.
We stopped counting after six shots.
WIN! I'M THE WINNER! RIGHT MOMMY? I WON!
"No, sorry dear. You can't win all the time. It's more important to do your best!"
More groans from the peanut gallery.
More tearful screams from THE ONE WHO MUST WIN!
"Look at your brother. He's just having fun climbing the large metal windmill that looks like it was built in 1934."
It's no time for life lessons or teaching moments or magnanimous parental epiphanies.
We're on our family vacation playing a friendly, fun-filled family round of mini-golf. damnit.
"Yay. You won the 5-year-old with the pink golf ball division. WOOOHOOOOO!"
So sue me.