Shaping and molding young minds
Two tales of the emergent political consciousness of l'il wobs.
Tale One: L'il wobs is currently enrolled in a hippy-dippy kind of Christian Montessori school. The boy apparently enjoys the religious part of the curriculum, which is fine by us, albeit a little jarring at times (for instance, when he referred to our wine as "Jesus blood." The way we see it, he'll encounter Christianity at some point - better from people who are teaching him to love everyone than from, say... Baptists. Besides, how's he ever going to appreciate Milton if he doesn't get some Judeo-Christian learning?
At any rate, a few weeks ago, l'il wobs started talking about "Rock" Obama. I was curious to know what the lad knew about "Rock," so I asked him. We were told that Obama is very beautiful, that he was put in jail, and then they killed him.
We were obviously a little surprised by his answer. Either ms. wobs or I asked him if maybe he was talking about Jesus, and l'il wobs responded, "They're the same."
Tale Two: One of l'il wobs friends and his parents weren't able to make the baseball game today, so they offered their tickets to us. We trekked down to watch the Nationals take on the Pirates. All was going well until "Star-Spangled Banner" time. To add a little razzle-dazzle to the proceedings, fireworks are launched to punctuate the "rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air."
L'il wobs hates loud fireworks and immediately broke down and wanted to leave. We talked our way through it, and he eventually re-settled and started to have a good time, charming our seatmates and munching on (four fucking dollar) Cracker Jacks.
During the bottom of the fourth, however, an Aaron Boone shot to the patio in center field brought out another round of celebratory fireworks, upon which l'il wobs recommenced freaking out. He was talked back down again, but by the time the sixth inning rolled around, he was pretty adamant about going home.
At any rate, when l'il wobs grows up to detest America, you'll know who to blame.