I keep National Public Radio on in my car as long as the kids can stand it-or I can take the complaints. Then we switch to pop music, and I listen to my daughter moan about how she never gets to listen to "her music."
Funny, I feel like I've listened to that "apple-bottomed jeans" song about ten thousand times.
She wasn't in the car this morning as my son and I awaited the bus at the intersection of our street and the main road. Lost in thought, I wasn't paying much heed to the political news on NPR. But my son was.
"Mom, this day isn't starting off well, " he commented. "Hillary's losing, and my bus is late."
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