Story Time

I was in the library the other day for story time. There was one blond hair, blue eyed little girl, maybe a bit older than me, for not only could she crawl but she could stand and walk. The President would tell me she was almost certainly a true American.

But the rest of those gathered as the librarian read stories, taught us how to clap hands and finally turned on the machine that sprayed out hundreds of tiny bubbles that bounced off our faces and our bellies (my personal favorite) were different. Mr. President, were they true Americans?

It was hard to know for sure. Because, just like the blond hair, blue eyed girl, they played with the toys on the floor, they cried if they were getting hungry or if they fell down and they laughed at the strangest times. And I noticed that just like the blond hair blue eyed girl they all had short attention spans. And each came to the library in a stroller. 

It must be hard for the President to be certain which babies are true Americans, especially if it is very dark in the room and he can only hear the sounds of them laughing or babbling or crying. But that must be why he was elected President, because it seems he knows things, he sees things, the rest of us don't.

One of the other little girls there was fascinated with my grandfather. While I was sitting on the floor near the librarian, playing with the colored handkerchiefs in front of me, she crawled over to where my grandpa was sitting. She got herself up, lifted herself onto the chair next to him and then plopped herself on his lap for a few minutes. She looked and acted just a I do when I am with him. But her skin was very dark so I guess the President would have figured she was not a true American.

I like story time at the library a lot. I only go once a week but I wish it were more. And I look forward to seeing the other kids. I hope when we are all a little older I can become good friends with all of them. Even the ones who aren't true Americans.