Spanky is jabbering away behind me in the car, deciding his plans for the rest of the day with his brother.
Dino chimes in "Yes, and we will play vikings. Sarah, you can play with Tasha."
Sarah (who may have been annoyed that she was yanked out of the girls' dressing room after ballet class because she was still chatting with her friends about only-she-knows-what for the past 18 minutes after class, or was even more annoyed that after a day of school work followed by dropping her sister off after an activity and then driving for 45 minutes to get to her only class only to find herself back in the car) shouted "The Backyardigans aren't real. They are ani-mat-ed (she accented every syllable). You can't meet them."
"Oh yes I can," Spanky (who was amazingly chipper after spending over 90 minutes straight in the car driving back and forth and back again) disagreed.
"No you can't," screamed Sarah (yes, screamed).
"I know you can't," Dino, the boy sitting in the middle wanted to make peace. "But we like to play Backyardigans."
Sarah wanted no peace. "Well you know Dino, Lightning McQueen is not real either. Did you know that?"
"He is too, I saw him. He's a car and cars are real," my usually very calm Dino was getting his feathers ruffled at this point.
"He can't talk. Does our car talk? Does it? Do you hear it talking?" Yes, she is still screaming.
"Well our car isn't Lightning McQueen," Dino began.
"Just stop OK," insisted Sarah.
And Sarah looked out the window hoping for the tornado that would take her to OZ, which is real (in Sarah's world).