Bingo

Transcript of an actual argument from the back of the minivan only a few days ago:

Oldest Singing (Eight year old red headed girl): There was a farmer had a dog and Bingo was his name-o, B I (clap) G O, B I (clap) G O, B I (clap) G O, and Bingo was his name-o.

Younger sister (Stubborn six year old) twin: You’re doing it wrong, it starts out (clap) I N G O, (clap) I N G O, (clap) I N G O, and Bingo was his name-o.

Oldest Laughs: Oh yeah, G O, (clap) I N G O, (clap)…

Younger interrupts: No, No, No. You have to start over from the beginning or it doesn’t make sense.

Oldest is miffed: It doesn’t matter; I already sang that part so I’m just starting here. (Clap) I N…

Younger yells as loud as she can while sitting only eight feet away in an enclosed space smaller that your average walk in closet, (not that we have a walk in closet, but I’ve seen them.): MOMMM! SHE’S SINGING THE BINGO SONG WRONG!

Oldest, also screaming: I ALREADY SANG THAT PART.

Dad: DON’T YELL.  Then to Mom with wonder and amazement in his voice: They are arguing about the Bingo song.

Mom: Yeah, welcome to my world, and they get out of school in two weeks.

Then, for some unexplained reason only children understand, there is peace. A great reconciliation is made. An armistice is in force and sisterly love reigns throughout the van as they sing Bingo together. Another fine example of the arts bringing two factions together in love and harmony.

Our children love to sing. They will sing in the car, at church, in bed, at the table, in the tub, on the trampoline; everywhere. It is wonderful when they are singing and getting along. It’s like the Sound of Music with a Dad who sings like Oscar the Grouch. Its all fun and games of course, until someone gets their eye poked out.

Only a few minutes after a gentle musical peace was established, the cease fire was broken once again with fighting words: “You’re Rude”.

In a house where words like hate and shut up are considered ‘bad words’ worthy of a soapy mouth, the statement of one having been rude is the worst possible accusation a sibling can legally make to another. I have seen those words bring tears. Of course I didn’t see it very clearly, what with all the tears clouding up my vision.

Now you parents know that there comes a time in every childhood argument when the parents, fair as they try to be, finally give up with the “What happened?” and the “Why did you call your sister rude?” type questions and just say, in your very loud voice, “OK, Everybody just be quiet. No more talking. Hey. I said no more talking. Shall we have spankings right now?” (What, you don’t spank your kids? To bad, you’re really missing out.)

Then there is an enforced peace. It sounds like peace because its quiet, but you can almost hear the laser beams shooting out of their eyes and into the back of your own head. But the quietness is worth a few laser burns. The hair grows right back.

So its quiet for about 30 seconds and the two married people in the front of the school bus, I mean van, start to do something they hardly ever get to do in a car full of the constantly talking proof of their love and affection for each other. That’s right, they start to talk. They talk about the news, money, yard work, the future, and many other wonderful things that grown up types talk about when they are on the open road. It’s glorious.

After only two or three minutes of this the rebels start to stir and begin little conversations of their own. It goes unnoticed so the stirring and talking and quiet singing build while the oblivious lovebirds in the front forget they are trying to run a concentration camp behind them and continue to converse like big people. Fools!

A few weeks ago my genius children discovered that the tune to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and the ABC song is the same. Being the musically talented terrors that they are they realized that they could sing these songs all at once. Each girl picks a song and the oldest boy jumps in wherever. It sounds like: “Twinkle C D E F Star, How I J K L You Are, Q R S The World So High, W X, In The Sky, Now I Know My Little Star, Next Time Wonder Sing With Star.” Yeah, it was really cute the first time. Not such a big deal the billionth.

So they are all singing this now while my beloved and I are rapidly being drown out by the festivities. Of course they are not fighting so we don’t mind. Then someone is singing someone else’s part, or someone said Star when they should have said Far and we hear another “You’re Rude!” rumble through the mini echo chamber. Voices erupt in argument.

I look over at the holder of wisdom.

Silently, but with great deliberation, she rolls down the windows then reaches over and turns up the radio.