Flashes of Inspiration

The Hating Years

"Be careful what you say. I know you don't mean that, but the words you use influence the way you think, and vice versa. When you say you hate me, you're building those walls in your mind."

"I don't care! I do hate you!" She stormed up the stairs, crying.

She'd wanted so badly to go to the movie. But the bargain had been that she had to get her grade up in math. I struggled to help her, but she just didn't get it and shut down. We'd argued about that, too. That time, she had just told me I was mean, the first flash of her teenage wrath.

I sighed and sat back down at my desk. My mother used to tell me that if I didn't hate her once in a while, she wasn't doing her job. I understood what she meant, now that I was a parent, but it didn't make it easy. My little girl was mad, that was all. But I still felt a big mean bully.

For a brief moment, I considered relenting. Did I really want to sacrifice the next few months or years in a power struggle with a hormone-addled brain? No, I did not. But sometimes parents have to be the target of their children's emotions so they don't bottle it up inside. I stuck to my decision.

I took a deep breath to make sure I was calm, then asked her to come down so we could talk about it.

"I don't want to talk! You said I could go to the movie, and you lied; I hate you!"

"Well, honey... if you don't hate me every now and then, I guess I'm not really doing my job."

Thanks, Mom. I sat down and thought: Let the adventure begin!

NOTES: ▶︎

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "You don't mean that"