In David Shannon's "David Gets in Trouble" picture book, parents are treated to page after page of David (of "No, David!") making every excuse in the book to get himself out of trouble before he eventually gives in and apologizes.

It's been a long time since a picture book made me laugh so much, simply by portraying a concise and amusingly accurate example of what parents go through practically on a daily basis. After we read it, I joked to my daughter that we should cross out David's name and put hers in instead. She took the book away and hid it.

I love Shannon's David books because David is like every headstrong little kid who ends up learning hard lessons whether he wants to or not. My daughter and I read the books over and over, just as I assume that the kids have to keep learning the same lessons over and over before they finally stick — assuming they ever do. I know adults who still default to denial or deflection before even considering whether they've done something wrong. I've been guilty of it more times than I want to admit.

But kids take it to a different level. Adults may argue, scream, make threats, or even get physical, but I don't remember the last time I saw a sane adult lying on the floor writhing around in destructive rage after getting caught doing something wrong.

Kids, on the other hand, will go to amazing lengths before conceding defeat and offering up apologies that, if not sincere, at least are a sign that they're ready to move on to the next thing. And there's always a next thing.

My 6-year-old doesn't recognize David in herself, but I do. It doesn't matter if she's right or wrong. It doesn't matter if she knows she's fighting a losing battle or if she actually expects to win. Once she's launched, the only thing to do is just wait until she surrenders out of boredom or fatigue. Sometimes, like David, she eventually winds down and offers a verbal apology. More often she'll come over for some coddling to make sure she isn't about to be voted out of the family. Lately, she's been making little apologetic gifts proclaiming her love for me: notes, drawings, heart-shaped sculptures molded in clay and textured with her little fingerprints. I bite my tongue to refrain from suggesting that I'd rather have the last two hours of my life back instead, but I assume she'll eventually learn that some things just aren't worth it. In the meantime, I just appreciate that she's generally ready to make amends.

Although it's not always apparent, my 13-year-old has moved past the David days. Does this mean that we don't have epic battles on a regular basis? Of course not, he's a teenager. But like most of us, he still has an inner David who can compel him to deny fault, even in the face of incontrovertible evidence. Or, in a complete reversal, he leads with the apology first, even when there's nothing to indicate he's done something wrong. So when dealing with my son, I never know which one of us is David. Sometimes, he's definitely David, trying his darndest to get out of trouble. But sometimes I'm David, angry that it's my fault for jumping to conclusions and blaming him for my mistrust because of all the times that it actually was his fault.

He's so far beyond David, though, that once I've apologized for mistrusting him, he'll laugh and admit that I was right in the first place. Sometimes I'll end up laughing, too. Other times, I just find myself wishing that teens were as uncomplicated as Shannon's loveable little troublemaker David.