"It's as if your son has done a complete 180."

And so it begins. My life as a parent in principals' offices. The years of worrying about whether my child is being bullied or, in this case, bullying. Not even 2 1/2 and my son is already a troublemaker.

Previously, teachers had only commented on my toddler's sweetness. He didn't hit, shove or bite. He was the perfect little man. Until now.

My sweet angel had turned into a monster, terrorizing classmates by pulling their hair.

When the teacher told me of his behavior, images of my child bringing havoc, hysteria and hair-pulling to his classroom flashed through my mind. Sweet Angel gnashing his teeth. Sweet Angel roaring aloud. Sweet Angel threatening to eat the other children. No, wait. That's "Where the Wild Things Are."

Mustn't get carried away.

He's just acting his age, right? I know my son better than anyone, and he's a sweetie. I mean, sure, he can be a tad sneaky. A tad manipulative. And he can fake a smile or frown better than anyone. And he does have a strange affinity for rubber ducks. Oh, no, he's Macaulay Culkin in "The Good Son"!

Enough! Deep breaths. I sought out a rational explanation.

"Not that I want to be that parent who says it's not her kid's fault," I heard myself saying, "but are you sure it was my kid's fault?" The teacher just looked at me.

Right.

Since becoming a mom, I've carried on most days without much thought to how I am parenting. It just happens, ticking along in step with time. But then there are moments that make me step back and re-evaluate what kind of parent I want to be. This was one of those moments.

Last month, I was faced with another moment. When I was shopping for new sneakers for my son, he fell in love with a pair of pink sparkly shoes. Rather than buy them, I steered my toddler in the direction of the black and red gender-appropriate kicks. It's weighed heavily on my heart ever since. He loves his new shoes, but do I really want to be the kind of parent who enforces such gender nonsense?

Here I was again, at the precipice of setting a parenting precedent. I wanted to get it right this time.

Was I truly determined to be the not-my-child's-fault parent? Maybe. If he's truly innocent and I'm being an advocate for my child, then absolutely. But there is a fine line between advocacy and raising your son to become one of the entitled, irresponsible men coerced into taking a paternity test on "Maury." "Sweet Angel, you ARE the father."

Perhaps I should avoid taking a stance on fault and rather move forward, strictly enforcing the must-do's. Clearly defining rules of right and wrong. But there is something powerful in giving the freedom to your child to find his own personal boundaries and decide what constitutes good and bad by learning from consequences of his own actions. Like, for me, skiing, tequila and sleeping under the stars are good. When all done together in a single evening, it's very, very bad.

I often think the hardest part of parenting is deciding what truly bothers you. Not society, you. I, for one, love bratty kids. Always have. I love kids who think for themselves. Question authority. Test boundaries. You can't stir minds, innovate or change the world without being a tad naughty. Bratty kids talk back because they have something clever to say. It's my job as a parent to remember that when I'm picking my son up from the principal's office. It's also my job to make sure my kid doesn't go from bratty to just plain obnoxious.

Pulling hair is obnoxious.

After a few days of daily updates on my son's maniacal hair-pulling madness, I still didn't have the answer for how to parent this turn in my child's behavior. I was about to ask for advice, when one of his teachers pulled me aside.

"So, we may have made a mistake. We watched your son closely, and he's not being aggressive. He's not even trying to pull the girls' hair; he just wants to style it."

My son isn't a monster. He's a hairdresser.

I bought him an Elsa hat with a long blond braid so he can participate in the hair play. I may be a slow learner, but I learn.

Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. Check out her column at http://didionsbible.com. To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.