My 6-year-old son has thrown his support behind John McCain in the presidential race. He did so over burritos at lunch. He presented a careful and reasoned rationale that I had no way of countering.
“Dad,” he says, “McCain is the best.” Nevermind that he pronounced it “Mick-Cain.” That’s an entirely different story.
“Why do you say that?” I said it calmly, despite the fact that my son had just shown a disturbing vein of Republicanism.
“He’s the best. You know the Presidential Paintball game on Miniclips? McCain is the best. I didn’t want him at first because he looks old. Even older than you. But he’s the best. So now I play with him.”
When we got home, I tried it out. I tried Obama, Hillary, Rudy… all of them. Then I tried out the old guy. And damned if he wasn’t the best.
