Nipping a crisis in the bud

I picked up Mookie from camp and announced that I was going to put on some music and do some cleaning. I hunted around a little for Sgt. Pepper (she loves the Beatles), but, not finding it within a couple of minutes, I decided on Bringing It All Back Home instead, and told her I was putting on Bob Dylan.

Mookie said, “I hate Bob Dylan!”

“Sorry about that,” I said, and started washing the dishes and wondering where I had gone wrong.

“Maggie’s Farm” came on. “That’s not even music!” Mookie declared. I admitted to her that other people have said so, but that they’re wrong.

With some reluctance, I reported this conversation to Joy, Mookie’s Mommy. Her response, after a hoot of laughter, was “I swear I didn’t tell her to say that.” My response was I clearly should have begun this process a long time ago. But it’s not too late. Honestly, how is one to become a properly rebellious, righteous, revolutionary teenager without the likes of “Maggie’s Farm”?


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