My youngest daughter, the second grader, has a new favorite expression. It's something I would expect to hear from a teenager, not from an eight- year- old, but I guess it's just a sign of the times. Kids are growing up faster and faster, and that apparently means parents are getting less knowledgeable and much less sympathetic to the world surrounding their kids. My youngest daughter's favorite thing to say to me now is, "You just don't understand."

Those are tough words to hear from someone who hasn't even hit puberty yet. I mean if she thinks I'm having trouble understanding her now, wait until some poor, unsuspecting crackly- voiced kid tries to pick her up on a date in a few years.

Admittedly, there are some things I can't understand. I don't know why I have to ask my three kids repeatedly to get them to do certain things. It's like some kind of magical device turns their hearing off when I ask them to clean their rooms. When I say, "It's bed time," they look at me like I've just said something in German. When I say, "It's time to leave now," somehow that's gets translated as "Please disappear into that McDonald's Playland tunnel so you lose all contact with me or the outside world."

So my daughter is right when she says I don't understand some stuff.

There are two things I'll give her. She is a middle child and she's a girl. I was an only child and, although my mom dressed me up as Dolly Parton one year for Halloween, I have never been or plan to be a girl. Other than that, I've got a pretty good understanding of life as a child, but that doesn't seem to register with her.

She recently tried out for a soccer team, so she was really nervous for a few days waiting on a verdict. On the day she was to find out if she made the team I told her that whether she made it or not, I wanted her to have fun playing soccer. If she played on this team or in a recreational league, the idea was always to have fun.

"But I've just got to make this team!" she yelled nervously.

"No," I said. "You don't. The important thing is to have fun. You're eight, not 18."

Then she said it, "Oh, you just don't understand!"

No, I don't understand sibling rivalry or panty hose, but I do understand try- outs. While my youthful athletic career was less than stellar, I had tried- out for at least 25 different teams. Some of those try- outs were simply evaluations, but several included cuts and some pretty hurt feelings. So this was one time I couldn't let my daughter slough me off with my lack of parental understanding.

I explained to her in no uncertain terms that this time she was the one who didn't understand. There would be plenty of time to stress over try- outs and cuts, but second grade was a little too early to start. After all, Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team as a sophomore.

She looked at me and said, "Mia Hamm started playing soccer when she was five. She made the U.S. National Team at age 15."

"OK," I said. "I guess I don't understand."