We went to an inauguration playdate this morning. On the way over, Chicken Noodle (not yet four) was convinced that Barack Obama himself was coming to Ethan’s house.
“When he gets there, I am going to freak out!” she said. I didn’t correct her for a few minutes because it was so darn cute.
Last night, I caught her telling her toy trucks, “Tomorrow, we get a new president!”
I said, “What do they think about that?”
“Trucks don’t talk, Mom.” Oh, right. How could I forget.
Barack didn’t show, except for on CBS, but the inauguration playdate was a success. Just like any other playdate, only with the additional detail of witnessing history. The kids ate muffins and played, the moms watched TV and cried.
Chicken Little clapped her hands and hollered “yay!” after Obama’s speech, and all the kids ran in to the room in time to wave goodbye to Bush as he boarded the helicopter destined for the rest of his life.
“Bye-bye, Bush” said Chicken Little, waving her one-year-old hand. Bye-bye, Bush, indeed.
