I Get to Say Yes

One of the most beloved and frequently read children’s books in my home was “No, David!” by David Shannon. No, David, you cannot write on the walls, track mud through the house, play with your food, and a myriad of other things kids typically do or try to do.

Substituting my son’s names for David as I read, the boys found it funny and relatable at bedtime after experiencing a similar day full of “no” (or its kinder equivalent). Always at the end came ‘Yes, I love you,’ just as David’s mom did.

It was a perfect way to end the day, reminding them that I loved them no matter what they had done.

During my never-ending home cleanout, I uncovered our copy of “No, David!” hidden in the back of a closet. It brought a smile and a flood of memories. Reading it now with hindsight, the book remains just as charming, regardless of one’s parenting philosophy on using the word “no.” Even back then, we tried to find alternatives to ‘no’ and ‘stop,’ but sometimes there was no other option. Parenting young children meant setting boundaries, enforcing limits, and watching them test both.

Now, though, there’s little reason for me to say no. No one has tried writing on the walls in years. I’m no longer the boundary-setter or enforcer. And my kids are pretty reasonable. So, now I get to say ‘yes.’ Yes, let’s go to the show (or dinner or game). Yes, let’s go to Paris. Yes, you can borrow the car. Yes, I can help. And yes, let’s discuss it.

That’s not to say I don’t say no; I do. I nixed a photo venue because it involved too much travel. I have limited the number of home-cooked (prepared by me) dishes at Thanksgiving, despite requests. This year, I’m considering going a step further with turkey day itself. I may opt for a restaurant meal—something my family has never done for the holiday, and it’s sure to disappoint some. But the no’s are fewer and further between as the years go on.

There has also been a subtle reframing—for me, anyway—toward ‘let’s see how we can make this work.’ It’s the difference between being a corporate lawyer who wants to get the deal done and a litigator who steps in when everything has already exploded. I spent years being the litigator (at home and at work) in crisis mode—’ No, you cannot stay up past bedtime. Case closed.’ Now I get to be the deal-maker—’ You want to drive to the concert three hours away? Let’s talk about what that looks like.’

I want to get to yes, which is easier when there are just two parties, me and one kid. It’s still tough to navigate the preferences of multiple family members, just as it was rough to referee the kids when they were younger. At least now, everyone is using their words instead of their fists—and mostly keeping it civil.

That copy of “No, David!” – now sitting proudly on a bookshelf – reminds me of a season I’m glad to have lived through and gladder still to have left behind. The nos had their place—they kept everyone safe, taught limits, and built trust. But the yeses? The yeses are the reward.