Playdate with Obama

So ever since the election, A. has been very fond of our president. You might even say a little obsessed. Every time she sees his face on television or on a magazine, she says "Obama yay!" She will tell whomever will listen "Obama won!" That's our crunchy liberal Brooklyn girl.

Yesterday, I asked how her day was.

A: Had a playdate.

Me: That's nice. Who was your playdate with?

A: JP. Erin. And Obama.

Me: Obama?

A: Yes.

Me: Was he nice?

A: Yes.

Me: Obama was playing with you.

A: Uh huh.

(Momentary pause to eat sweet potato fries and then thoroughly reject turkey burger.)

Me: So you played with Obama today.

A: Yes. Ice pop, please.

Me: Was he a man?

A: No. A boy. Ice pop. Green one.

Me: Anyone else at the playdate?

A considers this question.

A: A bumblebee.

Okay. So. I chalk up this little tale to her fantastic imagination. I tell the story to my husband. We have a good chuckle.

Next morning, I share the tale with our nanny. She says "We did have a playdate with a little boy named Obama. And we were painting bumblebees."

Of course. Of course there is not one Obama in the whole wide world. And of course, a bumblebee was at the playdate. Silly mommy for thinking it was all a figment of A's imagination.

Our nanny says, "You know her. She tells it like she sees it."

So she may not wind up a creative writing major. Maybe she's headed more towards journalism?