Camping With Obama

There’s this beat-up, old, dark blue truck in my neighborhood that is eternally parked in the same spot up against the curb, not far from one of the neighborhood entrances.  The truck has hard cover over the bed, and across the back is scrawled, in large capital letters, “STOP OBAMA.” 

Clearly, the owner is a fan of the POTUS.  (I love the acronym POTUS. Sounds kinky.)

On the way home today, Bear read the sign on the back of the truck out loud to Ballerina. “Stop Obama,” he said, followed by, “Why would someone want to stop Obama?”  I explained that like with anything else, people’s opinions differ on the President; some like him, some don’t.

Ballerina, who is four, thought about this a moment, and this is the conversation that ensued.

Ballerina:  So that man doesn’t like Obama?

Me:  Apparently that is the case.

Ballerina:  Does that mean he won’t go camping with Obama?

Me:  Most likely no.

Ballerina:  And he won’t go to his house for a party or a sleepover?

Me:  Probably not.

Ballerina:  What about fishing with him?

Me:  I doubt it.

Ballerina:  Why do grown-ups not do sleepovers if they don’t like each other?  And why doesn’t he like Obama anyway?

Even casual, not sure this screams "I love camping."
image c/o nydailynews.com

At this point we arrived home, so both children focused their attention on arguing about who should be allowed to unlock the door.  But this discussion left me wondering… could domestic and international issues be easily resolved if our leaders would just hold a darn sleepover?  Maybe tell ghost stories?  Do “light as a feather, stiff as a board” games and spin the bottle?  Play truth or dare?  Ballerina might be on to something.