When I Grow Up

Rob has a fascination with presidents lately.  The first presidential incident that I can recall was back in February this past winter.  President's Day was approaching and Ray, 1st grade at the time, was researching James A. Garfield and creating a presentation on him.  I remember our whole family driving down 4th street in our Yukon and Rob inquiring if Washington was dead.

"Wahsington?  George Washington, the president?"

"Yea, that's the one.  Is he dead?"

"Yes honey, he's dead.  He's been dead for a long long time."

"Oh."

We drove on further down the road while Rob apparently continued to ponder this.  A few minutes passed and he said, "What about Log?"

"Log?"

"Yea, Log."

"Log?  Like Lincoln logs?"

"Yea.  Lincoln Log!  Is he dead too?"

"OH!  You mean Abraham Lincoln.  Yes.  He is dead too."

"AW MAN!  ALL my favorite presidents are dead!!!"

As adorable as this was, I never dreamt it would be the beginning of a full fledge presidential fascination.  Rob colors pictures (which he hangs in chronological order), borrows books from the library, listens to videos on YouTube, sing songs, and spots president pictures everywhere.  I have to admit, he has taught me a great deal of history this summer.

The other morning Rob woke up way to early so as is customary in the Wx household, he curled up in bed with me.  He fell back asleep and woke up again at a more reasonable 7ish.  He barely peeked through his sleepy eyes and anxiously asked, "Mom, what do presidents eat?"

"Well, they eat food just like you."

"No, I mean, how do they get big and strong.  What do they eat?  What does Barack Obama eat?"  His voice sounded genuinely concerned and on edge.

"They are people just like you and me Robby.  They eat foods like fruits, vegetables, meat, just like you."

"Oh."  This time Rob sounded very relieved.

The relief didn't last for long because soon he was fighting back tears as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, looked at me and said, "Mom.  When I grow up, I want to president, but I don't want to die.  I don't want to die when I'm president like Lincoln.  I want to president and die when I'm done like Washington."

What was I to do?  I scooped him up, hugged him tightly and said, "I think you'd make a great president.  I'd vote for you.  And don't worry.  Now the president has lots of people to keep him safe."  As I squeezed him a little more I thought to myself, "And until then, I'll do what I can."