Rock Obama

“Mama,” Ayay said as I was finishing bathing Tingting. “I heard the doorbell ring.”

“Oh, okay. Well I can’t get the door right now. AND PLEASE DON’T OPEN THE DOOR. DON’T EVER OPEN THE DOOR WITHOUT ME,” I added. This was in light of Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital’s Code Pink: Infant Abduction (and Amber Alert) that F had just informed me of by phone.*

“Okay, Mama. I didn’t open the door.”

The doorbell was our UPS man informing us that he had left a package on the front steps. Under my watchful (paranoid) eye, Ayay brought the small brown package into the house. As I grabbed the scissors to open the package, Ayay said, “I think Rock Obama is in it!”

“Really? Barack Obama here in this package?” I asked. “What would you do if he was in the package?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged.

Instead of “Rock Obama,” I pulled out 3 pairs of princess flip flops that my mom and Tita Luz had found in the Philippines.

“Oh, Mama. It’s Sleeping Beauty! And Cinderella!” Ayay exclaimed as she started trying on the flip flops.

“What do you think? Are you glad these were in the box instead of Barack Obama?” I asked.

“Yes. Princess flip flops are better than Rock Obama,” she said.

Sorry, President Obama, but it’s nothing personal. To an almost-4-year-old, princesses trump presidents.

*The infant was found unharmed a few hours after his abduction.



One response to “Rock Obama

  1. That is one of the cutest things i have ever read. In honor of C, I’m going to refer to the prez as Rock.

    And I’m glad the little baby was found!

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