This afternoon, it’s hot, as one might expect of Texas in August. Sean and I are hanging out in the den, avoiding going to the grocery store and doing other things that need to be done. We are goofing off and we are darn good at it too.
He’s pulling all the cushions off the sofa and stacking them and pretending to be on a boat and I’m sitting in a chair with no cushions because the cushions are all on the boat.
I’m working on my laptop and not really paying attention to him as he pretends to navigate his ship. I say “okay, sure, that’s right” when he barks out an order for me, the first mate, and keep tap tap tapping on my computer. My ears perk up a little bit when he tells me my name is Mrs. Marshamallow and his name is John McCain. That he would name me Mrs. Marshmallow is not that far fetched as I am sweet and fluffy. And white. Okay, I’m fluffy and white, but not that sweet. Beyond that I’m wondering how he came up with the name John McCain. So I ask him.
“Sean, do you know the name of the two men who are trying to become president of our country?”
“Well, not really,” he says. “Besides I’m busy on my boat.”
“Want to just guess?” I ask.
“Well, one of them is Barak Obama,” he says with perfect pronunciation.
“And I think the other one is John McCain.”
Unless Little Bear is discussing politics, I have no idea how he knows who is running for president. And this freaks me out just a little.