From car seat to Kids at Risk

So I just got back from Atlantic City, which leaves me much to muse about.
Actually, the first musing has nothing to do with Atlantic City. On the way there, my two year old daughter sat in her car seat (we bring her along because she's better than me at craps). It was getting drizzly, and she began to sing (if you're ever around two-year-olds, you can envision this enunciation) "da raineen da pouween" (If you're not around two-year-olds much, that's her version of "It's Raining It's Pouring", MBD's famous early hit.)
I'm not usually a sentimental guy. I rarely cry at all, (although since I've had a kid, I find that I tend to lose it more and more, like Paul Vitti in "Analyze This"), and certainly not of happiness. But something about my daughter singing contentedly makes me well up, as I see her so happy and content, and think of all the problems she'll inevitably have one day.
And I wonder. When she's a teenager, there's no doubt that we'll have our disagreements. Her generation will be different than my generation. I won't understand her, and I'll make mistakes.
But does my love for her count for anything? Can anyone who has not yet been a parent even remotely understand what being a parent is like? What it means to truly care for somebody?
We've all, at least those in my generation, heard the saying "You'll thank me one day". I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now. But instead of one day having thankfulness for bad decisions, today I have an appreciation for (I hate using these words) true love.
So all you people out there who will never read this, take heed. Your Mommy and Daddy are stupid and antiquated. They don't understand what your life is like. They do things that alienate you and hold you back. They make you resent them, and then they complain that you don't appreciate them.
But when your mother shrieks wildly in front of all your friends "I carried you for nine months! and suffered through four days of labor! and stayed up all night with you when you had smallpox! And you're not wearing that skirt to the mall!" She may be missing a few screws. You didn't ask her to carry you for nine months, and anyway, it doesn't make her any more right about what you should and shouldn't wear.
But possibly what she means is to whisper, "I loved you so much that I wanted to carry you for nine months. I cared for you so deeply that when you were sick, I only wanted to hold you, and wished I could make you better. " And maybe she's still wrong, but shouldn't it be worth something?
And so, when that day comes, and my daughter and I are engaged in a shouting match over some triviality, instead of pounding my fist on the table and yelling forcefully "You'll do it MY way!" I think I'll just put my fingers in my ears and sing "Da raineen da pouween". Heck, she's gonna think I'm crazy anyway.
Looking back, the above has been my bombastic statement on "Kids at risk".