Perspective
When my son was about three we visited my mom in Florida. We had decided to go to the beach, and got everything ready to pile it into the car. My mom put the keys into the ignition while I was still strapping Martin into his car seat, and the warning bell started: Ding dong ...ding dong ...ding dong ... Just as my brain and body began to react to the grating, repetitious ugliness of the sound, Martin started singing along in his little three-year-old voice: Dee, dee...dee, dee...dee, dee... "I don't think I can ever hate that sound again," said my mother.