Driven to Tears

Did I mention that Obama's speech Tuesday night brought me to tears? Literally, tears. They were streaming down my cheek, and I didn't even realize it. I don't know if it was his message or the enormity of the moment I was experiencing, absorbing. The unreal heft of the occasion possibly came over me. I can't even blame hormones for the display. Mac Daddy was likewise moved, as he watched entranced.

Bird and Deal know who Obama is. They get all atwitter when they see the Obama logo. Of course they know what a logo is; their mother is a marketer. They know Hillary too. We're trying to mask our true feelings for her and simply tell them we like Obama more because he will do more to ensure a bright future.

Then I let as much venom flow about John McCain as preschoolers can handle. That amounts to something like, " We don't think McCain cares about the earth and its children. He wants to keep soldiers away from home in a dangerous place. John McCain is not going to be nice to America."

Now Deal sees any old geezer guy, and yells, "Mommy! Mommy! John McCain! We don't like him." That's all well and good until he starts shouting it at the post office or coffee shop. I suppose it's easier for my kids to tell Obama and Hillary apart from other people. McCain is just any old guy. Ah, the knowledge of children never ceases to amaze me.

The Big O

This morning Bird was working on writing his upper case alphabet in a little workbook I got for him at the Teach Me store. He was doing a great job, and we had fun cheering and squealing together as he rounded out a perfect G and stayed within the lines on a particularly difficult J.

The next thing I know, he's breezed through a bunch of letters while I stepped away to make blueberry blintzes for breakfast, and I hear, "Here comes the Big O!" He said it with the same sarcastic yet humorous tone that Mac Daddy would have used, so I worried for a moment that Bird indeed understood the context of his exclamation.

Alas, the next thing he said was, "Here comes the Big N!" The way I heard it, however, the N got less fervor than the O.

And speaking of the Big O, you gotta see the T-shirt that I'm dying to muster up the moxie to put on my boys.