“No, yooooooooooou! No, yoooooooooou” Calvin sang, angry that I wouldn’t give in to his late afternoon meltdown. He wanted to watch a movie, I said no, and he was following me around chanting that over and over again.

“I’m not going to turn it on, Calvin. It’s almost dinnertime.”


I scoop him up as he tries to resist; he only grows more determined and loud with his chant.

So I join him, matching his pitch. Together, vowel for vowel, we sing the protest.

“No, yooooooooou. No, yoooooooou.” This goes on for a few minutes. (The neighbors probably wondered what was going on as our strange duet floated out through the open windows.)

Stopping, he smiles up at me. “Mommy, our voices are getting all mixed together. They’re all mixed up.”

Our song is ended. There’s still no movie. And Calvin trots off happily to play cars.


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