Blog Prompts, Post 2

If James were president.

FIrst off, let me say that this is a TERRIBLE idea. James is not even three, so he should not be entrusted with the highest executive office in the country, let alone the de facto rule of global American interests. He would certainly be an unpopular, one-term president. (Although I'm sure everyone would agree that his presidential portrait is very sweet. He can't even sign his own name, so any legislation that passed through congress would stagnate in a heap on top of the oval office desk. Either that, or he would color on it. He can't read, so he would be unable to deliver any speeches or addresses, and he gets shy in big groups anyway. (Maybe he'd be able to read simple speeches in the style of Dr. Seuss by his third or fourth year in office.) His supreme court nomination (Steven Bear) would certainly be rejected by congress. He would be almost useless in a military situation, and I think that his general interactions with other elected representatives would be characterized by a petty and petulant insistence on doing whatever happened to strike his own momentary interests without any reference to the general good or sense of appropriate civil discourse. So, no big difference there. (ZING!!!)

What would his life look like? He'd probably appoint George chief of staff. They'd have a good working relationship, I'm sure, but George isn't very good at communicating his thoughts except through James. ("George is need to watch a George. He needs to watch his self.")

Most of the time he'd either stand at the oval office window and watch the groundskeepers mow the lawn of the Washington mall, or he'd instruct his secret service agents to drive the presidential motorcade through a carwash over and over again.

His secret service detail would have their hands full, I'm sure. They'd constantly be whispering things into their coms like "The president has just been crouching under the oval office desk, code brown, code brown." Or, "We have a situation in the living quarters, George and Steven are taking a nap. I repeat, George and Steven are taking a nap under the red blanket. No personnel are allowed in. Please instruct the Prime Minister that he'll need to reschedule."

Life for J and I, on the other hand, wouldn't be so bad. We'd hang out in the White House living quarters in our pajamas, and I could practice whenever I wanted in the National Cathedral. With all the free childcare we'd entrust ourselves with diplomatic missions to Key West or to Cancun, or maybe to Paris for a weekend on Air Force One.

The rest of our family would have it pretty good, too. Mom and Dad would come and visit, and the kitchen staff would have to tell Mom repeatedly that she really didn't need to help them with the dishes after supper. Dad would get into the free White House-brewed beer, and then take funny pictures of himself giving the presidential portraits a drink. J's Mom and Dad would come too, and her Dad would linger in the halls reading all of the historical placards very carefully, and perhaps pointing out a spot or two in the hall where the paint on the trim might need some touch-up. Her Mom would probably need to go pick grapes out in the White House garden with the President himself.

"Sir, we're gonna have a situation. The president has just eaten three full clusters of red concords, we are anticipating class 3 diaper, repeat class 3 diaper sometime in the next 48 hours."

"Roger that. We'll see if the Queen can reschedule to next week."