Protest Songs

It was cool this morning, probably in the low forties as we headed to the car to get the girls to school. But at the last minute I remembered that I hadn’t put out the recycled materials for trash pickup. So, as the girls climbed into the back seat of the car, I went back, opened the front door of the house, pulled the blue recycle bag out, and took it to the curb.

Finally, after going back and locking the front door again, I climbed into the driver seat of my car.

From the back seat, whispering … then in unison two voices:
“Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door
I don’t care
what they’re going to say
Let the storm rage on.
The cold never bothered me anyway.”

“Very subtle girls,” I said, as I flipped on the heater.

Forget them needing therapy. I’m going to need therapy by the time they are done with me.


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