My daughter is giving me hell - AGAIN.

The kid has always been one step ahead of me and I still don't know what to do about it.

At the moment, it is about her school uniform and wearing her glasses. But it's always something.

Before she started school this year, it was about what clothes to wear.

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As school started, we were briefly lulled into a false sense of security. Then she found something new to argue about: her uniform.

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I've started setting the oven timer so it beeps when it's time for her to get into her uniform. I warn her in advance so it comes as no surprise. This worked for a few days until she started arguing about the timer.

This week, after asking her to get dressed several times after the timer went off, she finally obeyed, as I cleaned my teeth and her three-year-old brother's.

Soon after, she arrived in the bathroom wearing the following: pants under her uniform skirt, another skirt over the top, a long-sleeved top over her uniform polo shirt, rainbow-striped socks and fairy wings.

"I asked you to put the uniform on," I said, the exhaustion of having this same battle every day for what feels like years showing in both my voice and the deepening crevasses between my eyebrows.

"It's okay because you can see it," she replied, pointing to the blue collar, the only piece visible.

Honey, these skills are going to serve you so well when you work in law or politics or any other career that involves being a complete a***hole. But don't pull this s*** on me. I'm your mother. I'm too old and tired and I might just crumble at any moment.

I have tried sticker charts. I have tried being nice. I have tried yelling. I have tried punishments. I have removed toys. I have removed the music she has before bed time. I have removed her favourite blankie, and all her back-up blankies.

The kid is not punishable. If she cares, she's smart enough not to show it.

Out of complete and utter desperation, I even tried empathy: "It's hard wearing a uniform when you just want to be a fairy, isn't it?" I mean, WTF?

JUST PUT YOUR ***ing UNIFORM ON and GET IN THE CAR!

What else is there?

I don't know if I need a psychologist, anger management (for me) or a couple of cases of wine. Maybe a combo of all of the above?

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