JEREMY CORBETT

A GIFT HELPS JEREMY FIND THE POSITIVES IN THE NEGATIVE

No.” “N-O spells ‘no.’” “No, no, no.” “No!” So went the several variations of that word on the toy my seven-year-old received for her birthday.

There was a small group gathered to watch gifts being unwrapped. When we witnessed the giant red “no” button, we laughed, rolled our eyes and joked about it being the perfect “sabotage gift”, something that would drive Mum and Dad mad. It nearly destroyed our family.

For the next few days, the button barely left Charlie’s side. Whenever she was asked a question, it would magically appear and be deployed.

The first few times, we joined in the fun. I asked several yes-or

-no questions in a row to let her explore the different versions lurking inside the machine. Then I tried to trap her by suddenly asking a question such as,

“Would you like a jellybean?”

Immediately she detonated another piercing negative in my direction: “No!” followed by, “I want two jellybeans.”

“Haha,” I forced out.

There is an age when humans start to detect the atmosphere of a room has changed, when the game has gone too far. That age is not seven.

She continued to hit the button while we tried to get her through the morning routine as the end of the school year approached. Mum and Dad’s faces got redder. I tried to work out ways to get hold of it so I could remove the batteries.

The odd thing is, every common sentence a parent uses to try to make a child surrender a toy can be dealt with very swiftly using a “no”. It made the problem worse.

Eventually, she picked up on a sign that maybe it was time to stop, probably her mum lying on the floor sobbing.

Then her sister grabbed it, the whole process kicked off again and it only ended when I physically removed it from her. It turns out four-yearolds are even worse at reading a room.

Once I was holding it, however, I started to fall under its power. I found myself wishing for a question. Because my wife and children wrongly believed the “no” button was in responsible hands, they let their guard down.

A suitable question soon presented itself and I pressed away. It was addictive and it was fun. Mum quickly started sobbing again.

I don’t think a “yes” button would sell quite as well.

Nobody wants to say “yes” over and over. It makes you sound like a desperate people pleaser. “No” is way cooler. There’s something about rebelling that is satisfying. And doing it via an electronic gadget makes it responsibilityfree fun! But only for the button presser. The toll it took on the rest of us did serious damage.

Luckily, our children excel in the area of losing things. Just when we were at breaking point, the button disappeared, its whereabouts unknown, its voice silenced.

My daughter asked if I knew where it was yesterday.

It gave me great pleasure to use my vocal cords to deliver a soft and sympathetic “Nooo”.