The Kids Hijacked My Playlist

Gray-transparent Compact Cassette isolated on white

My commute used to be quiet “me” time–listening to NPR, an audiobook, or a few favorite songs to help me enjoy a moment of zen. It was the time between commitments and demands.

Now my commute–all 90 minutes of it–goes like this:

Twin A: “Mommyyyyyy, I said I want to hear ‘Electric Avenue’!!”
Twin B: “No, no! Play the techno-robot song [Daft Punk’s ‘Technologic’]!!”
Twin A: “I have a plan. We will listen to ‘Call Me Maybe.'”
Twin B: “I hate that song! It’s for stupid girls! Does grape jelly stain?”
Me: (pinching the bridge of my nose to ward off tension headache) “Calm down, guys. We can take turns.”
Twin A/Twin B: howl alternating verses from Black Sabbath and They Might Be Giants over the stereo.

SOS: Please help me–my kids have hijacked my playlist and my serenity. Send Terry Gross, STAT.

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