The Art of Reason.

Last week as I made dinner, I could hear Mad Dog throwing Crowbar around in the family room.

They weren't fighting, but they were wrestling, which is basically the same thing since they both typically end with tears and finger-pointing.

Oh, and neither are allowed. Period.

I summoned Mad Dog, who was clearly the antagonist in the altercation.

"Mad Dog?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Uh, wrestling," she confessed, bowing her head.

"Is wrestling allowed?"

"I forgot!"

"You didn't answer my question. For as long as you can remember, has wrestling ever been allowed in this house?" I asked.

"No."

"So, is it fair to say we've had a 'No Wrestling Rule' in effect for more than ten years?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Uh-huh." I paused a good twenty seconds, letting the moment sink in.

"I'll just be in my room until supper's ready," she said.

"Perhaps that's best."

- - -

The beauty of the exchange is that I didn't have to raise my voice -- not even once -- to get my point across.

God, I'm good.