As we were driving under a canopy of rather formidable looking tree branches, my 11-year-old son asked me what would happen if a giant tree branch fell on us.

I matter-of-factly told him that it would probably crush the car.

He asked if we had insurance.

I said it probably wouldn't matter all that much if we were in the car.

My 4-year-old daughter — who had been off in her own world whining about not being able to go to kindergarten this year — started listening at this point.

She made it absolutely clear that she did not want to be crushed by a tree branch.

Fair enough.

I managed to allay her fears through reason, and told her that we'd probably have some warning if a tree branch was going to fall on us and we would just move out of the way.

"Would we stay under a tree if we thought it was going to fall on us?" I asked her.

"Nooooooo!" she said, giggling, recognizing the silliness in this entire conversation.

I thought it was settled.

Then she asked, "But what if it's a monster tree?"

The fact that it's highly improbable that monster trees exist makes no difference to a preschooler who has seen evidence of them in all sorts of entertainment media.

My argument: "It's just a movie!" was countered with, "But I saw it in a movie!"

After about 20 minutes, I realized I wasn't going to be able to convince her that monster trees don't exist, and anyway, we had arrived at her preschool.

My daughter finds all sorts of reasons to try to guilt me into not leaving her at school and doesn't seem to realize that I know she cheers up instantly upon my exit.

This morning, she plopped herself on the floor and clung to my leg, whining about monster trees.

For once, I didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse as I disentangled myself and walked back to the car.

Sometimes if you can't win an argument, it's best just to walk away.

Reach Treena Shapiro at tshapiro@honoluluadvertiser.com.