MyThreeDaughters

So I’m sitting on the loveseat in Rosebud’s room last night, trying to read books to her before bed.

I can’t remember what I did that was so objectionable, other than asking her to sit down before I started reading. Instead, she scurried up onto the arm of the couch.

I reached for her. She had a small, pink kids’ pocketbook in her hand.

She suddenly swung it up in roundhouse, haymaker fashion — and slammed it down on top of my head.

It didn’t hurt, so much as surprise me.

But I wonder: How does a three-year-old girl learn to use a purse as a bludgeon? Has she been watching 1950s sitcoms? Is her heroine Granny Clampett?

Nature, or nurture?