"The First Time My Daughter Told Me She Hated Me, I Bought Her a Cake"

My daughters are 3 and 2. When I come home from work, they often scream "Daddy!" and run to the door to meet me. I love it.

And I savor these moments to steel myself for the inevitable time when they grow to hate me. For Sarah Eyre's daughter, that was the tender age of 15:

We aren’t a shouting-match sort of family, but things got out of hand and culminated with my daughter storming out the door, shouting, “You’re a f-----g b---h, I hate you!” She ran up the street to her best friend’s house, leaving the gate and my jaw hanging in her wake.

Eyre devised an ingenious method for diffusing the tension. First, she called up a local bakery:

“I need to buy a cake today,” I said. “and I’d like it to read, ‘You’re a f-----g b---h, and I hate you,’ please.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Hello?” I asked.

“You’re serious?” they asked.

“Yes. Would you need a deposit? I’d need it for this afternoon.”

There was a pause. “The cakes we have ready in the case aren’t big enough for that.”

“Oh. OK. I guess just, ‘I hate you!’ would be good enough.”

How did the girl respond when her mother presented the cake? Read Eyre's description at the link.

Link -via Offbeat Mama