Remy tells me, “I don’t think Barack Obama has done as much as he should. I mean he hasn’t stopped the wars and he really should.”
I say, “There are so many things we wish he’d do. Compared to many Presidents, he’s done so much, though.”
“I know!” Remy exclaims. “It’s a really hard job.”
“What would you do if you were President?” I ask.
We are walking down the sidewalk. He says, “Stop the wars. Other than that, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t want to be President.”
A giant, stinky garbage truck rolls by. “Would you want to be a garbage collector?” I ask. “Or President?”
“Garbage collector,” he says without hesitation. “You probably get paid pretty well and you don’t have so many people watching you. And you don’t have all that pressure or stress.”
**
Saskia, outside, barefoot but otherwise ready to climb into the stroller for her stroller ride to school takes one look at the sparkly red shoes I’ve picked up from the mudroom floor and says, “Not those shoes!”
I ask, “Which shoes do you want to wear to Sunnyside?”
She replies, “It’s a secret.”
O-kay.
I pick up the favorite shoes of the moment, Remy’s old sandals and hold them up so she can see. “Yes,” she replies. “Sandals.”
She hops into the stroller.
