Dear oh dear, a six year old in crisis

The six year old in our house has been a wee bit naughty of late.  Nothing serious, just ignoring almost every instruction she is given, and generally living in a world of her own.  Last night when she was being especially willful I got a bit shouty and cross, and she burst into tears (as she does at the drop of a hat these days) and told me: “When I was a baby I thought that when I grew up my life would be better than this!”

I mean really, she has stepped back and evaluated her life and decided, on the whole, that its rather average.  And she is six.

I’m at a bit of a loss really, she has a bloody fantastic life by any measure, and is generally perfectly happy.  But at the moment the slightest bit of parental input (for example “pick up your shoes”) is met with monumental resistance.   If we press the point, she might go and pick up the shoes, or she might descend into a trough of existential despair.  Surely this shouldn’t be happening for another six or seven years?