Me: “So today we are going to read this biography about Barack Obama.”
Kid: “Oh! That’s my Dad’s Christmas dinner guest!”
Kid: “So every year everyone in my family decides who we would invite to our Christmas dinner that year, if we could invite anyone in the world. My dad chose Barack Obama.”
Me: “Oh, I love that! And who did YOU choose?”
Kid: “Taylor Swift.”
Me: “Also a good one. And your Mom?”
Kid: “She chose ‘any black female voter from Alabama.'”
Kid: “Yeah I didn’t really get it.”
What I wouldn’t pay to give this guy a full-blown koala hug and never let go.
Reading this book with a 1st grader…
Me: “So what did we learn in this book?”
Kid: “That Barack Obama was born in an African country.”
Me: “WHAT?! No, no, no. NO.”
Kid: “Yeah, it said that.”
Me: “No, it said Barack Obama was born in HAWAII– his FATHER is from Africa.”
Kid: “Oh, same thing though.”
Me: “No. NO. NOT the same thing. Not the same thing at all.”
Me: “Repeat after me: ‘Barack Obama was born in Hawaii. In the UNITED STATES.'”
Me: “Say it.”
Kid: “Barack Obama was born in Hawaii.”
Me: “I’m very serious about this. I can’t have you thinking that. And I definitely can’t have you going around saying ‘My tutor Emily taught me that Barack Obama was born in Africa.’ Do you understand?”
Kid: “I understand…”
Me: “He was NOT born in Africa.”
Kid: “Ok stop freaking out. I get it.”
Donald Trump inviting Barack Obama’s half-brother to the 3rd debate is like when I take all of Eric’s stray crap lying around the apartment and gather it in a huge pile in the corner of the bedroom– it’s ineffective, desperate, sad, and will go 100% unnoticed by the person you’re trying to provoke.
The best thing about having a brother with a Masters in political theory is that I always have someone with whom I can intellectually discuss this election.
Do you think Hillary Clinton woke up this morning with a confident, shit eating grin, had some coffee and then slowly came to realize “Oh, fuck. I have to FOLLOW that.”
Tonight should be good.
I’ll never let go…