My friend Gardner, who doesn't have a blog, admitted last week that he and his wife Allison got a babysitter so they could go to a bar and watch the Iowa Caucus returns. While the confession prompted a little nostalgia on my part for D.C., here's how politics works these days in our household. True story.
Fade up on Carey at the breakfast table, reading the front page, clenching her jaw.
"This is crazy. It's the media that makes it a story. 'Hillary Clinton has no chance to be president if she doesn't win New Hampshire.' Who says? She could win 'em all on Super Tuesday."
"Mommy, what's a president?"
"Well... in this country, we have leaders. People who make decisions about stuff and how we work with the rest of the world. We call that person a president. We don't have a king like the mermaids."
"I want another bite."
Greta grabs three-inch French Toast stick and shoves entire syrupy mess into her mouth.
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