My daughters encounter the 2016 presidential election, part 5

Remember how Leila's goal has been to become the first female president of the U.S.? She came home from school yesterday and announced that she was 100% certain that Hillary Clinton was going to win the November election. Therefore, she would need to find a new goal. To that end, Leila asked me if I could turn her into a "Black girl." She said that if she couldn't be the first "girl president," then she wanted to be the first African American woman to be president. (Ah Shirley Chisholm, where are you now?)

My dear daughter, if you get an owie on your knee and need someone to kiss it better, daddy can do that. If you need someone to teach you what a gerund is, daddy can do that. But if you need someone to transform you into an African American kid, that is one thing daddy cannot do.

A little fatherly advice, if I may: It would be more realistic for you to try to become the first female president with Mexican heritage. Yeah, I know it's a stretch, since we are talking about your second great grandfather, who migrated north into Texas from Mexico in 1903. But "Leila Topham, part of the Reconquista since 1903" would look great on a campaign button.

Now, dear child, set aside your political ambitions for the moment and keep practicing the solo you will be singing in your school's talent show in just over a week. One thing at a time, kiddo, one thing at a time.

My daughters encounter the 2016 presidential election, part 4

Political strife of an unusual nature is afoot next door. One morning I awoke to find that my neighbors had planted a Donald Trump banner in the lawn on the boundary line between our yards. I was much relieved a couple days later to see it had been moved to the center of my neighbors' front yard. A few days later, it disappeared altogether.

I mentioned this to Savannah, who giggled and said, "I know." She then explained that her friend who lives in our subdivision and rides the bus with her to school every day is the granddaughter of our next-door neighbors. Unlike her grandparents, she does not support Trump's candidacy. It was she who had been moving the banner around. Savannah said that her friend kept moving it as a form of protest, as well as an act of defiance against her grandparents. One day, she turned the sign around so that passersby would see the print backwards. She gleefully announced that it now read "Pmurt." Apparently, that was the point at which the grandparents conceded defeat and removed the sign entirely.

Nine-year-old girl: 1 Grandparents: 0

Laugh. Out. Loud.

My daughters encounter the 2016 presidential election, part 3

When I picked Leila up from school today, she immediately started in on politics again, continuing this morning's conversation (see earlier post for context). She told me the kids talked about politics all day. She said some of her classmates' fathers think Trump is great, but others do not. She said the kids whose parents do not support Trump kept referring to him as "Tronald Dump." Leila thought this was funny, given the slang meaning of the word "dump."

Then Leila switched to discussing the Democrat candidates. She said she opposes Hillary Clinton solely because Hillary is currently the biggest threat to her dream of becoming the first "girl president," as Leila phrased it. Then Leila wanted to know how soon she could run for president. She was appalled when I said not until the year 2044. She decided my math was off and set out to double-check it. She came up with 2028 as the correct year. Turns out, she thought she could run for president after she turned 18. When I told her the magic number was 35, it ruined her day. She thought it was dumb of the Framers of the Constitution to pick such a ridiculously advanced age as the minimum requirement.

This kid entertains me.

My daughters encounter the 2016 presidental election, part 2

Scene: driving Leila to school this morning. She is looking at all the election signs along the way.

Leila: "Dad, I had a dream last night that I voted for someone for president. It was a made up person. I can't remember his name now, but his last name started with a 'P'."

Me <thinking>: Just so long as his last name didn't start with a 'T' kid!

Leila, still reading names off signs: "Dad, Why don't you want Trump to win?"

Me <thinking>: Because he's a xenophobic buffoon, among other things.
I then explain that he has lots of unpalatable views, and that he just keeps saying more disturbing things every time he opens his mouth. She requests an example. I ask her if she has heard of Muslims. She says no. I explain that they are a very large religious group, the vast majority of whom are peaceful people just trying to live good lives. I remind her about 9/11 and tell her that Trump has tapped into some people's post-9/11 fears. I explain his anti-Muslim stance and tell her he dislikes millions of people based on their religion.

Leila, as she hops out of the car at school: "So, like Hitler?"

Dear Mr. Trump, my 7-year-old daughter is on to you! You haven't got a prayer.

My daughters encounter the 2016 presidential election, part 1

Dear Hillary Clinton,

My seven-year-old daughter Leila has, over the last several weeks, repeatedly expressed a strong desire to become the first female president of the United States. To that end, I respectfully request that you withdraw your candidacy from the current election and allow my darling daughter to chase her dreams She will be eligible to run for office as early as the 2044 presidential election. Assuming she is elected and then serves for two terms, you could resume your presidential campaign in time for the 2052 election. At that time, you will be 105 years old. You've waited this long, surely a few more years won't hurt?

Sincerely,

a doting father

*Important note to Facebook friends: This post's intent is lighthearted. The post is not meant to be interpreted as a political statement or to stir up politically charged controversy. Please do not be offended by this post. And for the love of all that is holy, please do not write argumentative or nasty comments below. I repeat: I am simply trying to be silly -- though Leila is totally serious in her desire to become the first female president of the U.S.

Savannah Saves the Day: An Easter Egg Hunt Story

Have I ever told you that Savannah is a real sweetheart?

We had an Easter egg hunt in our yard over the weekend. At the appointed hour, three girls raced out the front door in a mad dash to collect as many candy-filled eggs as possible. As they competed for the same eggs, Leila and Colette collided on the patio. The bigger kid came out of the fray with the loot safely tucked in her basket and raced into the backyard in search of more. In contrast, Colette burst into tears and threw her Easter basket, scattering what few eggs she had gathered. Deeply discouraged, she plopped down and refused to rejoin the hunt. While Katie tried to comfort Colette, Leila sailed on ahead, filling her basket to overflowing. (Tell you what, that kid can MOVE when properly motivated. I'm pretty sure she broke the sound barrier.)

Within seconds -- literally! -- all of the Easter eggs were gone. Meanwhile, at the encouragement of her mother and oldest sister, Colette had finally decided to give it another try. But by then it was too late. So she sat back down on the patio, wailing louder than ever. Then, from the back yard, I heard Savannah call out, "Come here, Colette! There's still one over here!" This puzzled me because I knew full well that the yard had been stripped clean of every last Easter egg. So I walked around the side of house and into the back yard to investigate. And there I saw Savannah taking eggs from her own basket, crouching down, and carefully planting them along the fence line. As she did so, she kept shouting out to her little sister, "I found another one!" And "Here's one more!" Eventually, she succeeded in coaxing Colette into the back yard, where she began picking up the eggs Savannah had hidden.

Back on the patio once more, Colette noticed the contrast between her few eggs and Leila's three dozen or so. And once again she burst into tears and threw her Easter basket in the air, scattering its meager contents. Undaunted, Savannah tried a new approach: she ran inside the house, got the bag of unused candy, filled a bunch of plastic eggs with it, and proceeded to hide those in the bag yard for Colette.

Amidst the hubbub and chaos of a hunt for Easter candy, Savannah saw that her little sister was discouraged and defeated. Neither parent said a word to her. She came up with a solution on her own. And gave away her Easter candy. What nine-year-old kid does that? Seriously, who does that?!!

(I'd like to claim that good parenting is responsible, but the truth is, the child was simply born that way.)