|Not my kid. Not enough snot and limb flailing, for one thing.|
A few weeks ago, for reasons known only to herself, my daughter decided to throw an afternoon-long tantrum. As she screamed, I cycled through annoyance, concern, anger, empathy, back to concern, then finally shellshocked admiration at her stamina and commitment to cause.
Around hour two, her cries suddenly changed pitch and frequency. Seeing an opening, I hollered "RE-MIX!" and, as she stared in confusion, I began singing:
It's the remix to ignition,
hot and fresh out the kitchen.
I can't sing you the rest,
'cause it's not safe for children.
She frowned. She giggled. She wasn't yelling!
Then she took a deep breath and started all over again.