The daycare’s philosophy is never to say no to a child. You can give options, but you can’t say no. As in, “Caligulina, would you like a graham cracker, or a ride on the swings, or a bunny to pat? Those are your choices. Besides, a butter knife is too dull for stabbing effectively, OK, honey?”
Perhaps it’s regressive, but sometimes, dear humans, the answer is no. No, you can’t run in the street. No, the earthquake is not just. No, you can’t be eighteen forever, even if you dress like you can. The ultimate no is the end of it all. The grown-up philosophy to the Daycare of Yes is the theology of Nothing Really Dies. It’s true, energy continues, transformed but eternal, a beautiful unfolding chain. But you and me? There won’t be any you and me anymore. Sorry, but no.
Still, there are options. Even in the wilds of no, there are trails through the sharp sedges and along the sheer cliffs. You can tiptoe and take notes, smell the breeze and look for other animals in your predicament. You can drink deeply from the spring and see what you become. You can run as hard as you can and see where you fall. Or you can stand in one place with your eyes shut and hum and pretend you are in Disneyland, or Schenectady, or the Daycare of Yes.
So what’ll it be?
Say yes to no.