Small Daughter was born Regan Christine Hand some 14 years passed. In that there is such a disparity of age between her and my oldest daughter, I took to referring to them as the First Daughter, and Small Daughter, noms de guerre that I cherish as being truly my own, and just between us three.

Imagine my shock when Small Daughter brought to my attention that my 11-year-old son, His Excellency and Future Pope, George Edward Hand V, was rooting for this voting year’s Democratic ticket. I won’t say her name, as I just ate and would like to retain my dinner… but suffice it to say that it rhymes with Pillory, or as in the case of my nickname for her: Schmidt-Head. My son; a democrat??

My son, my son… my only begotten dear son. I entered his room as he lay in bed reading just prior to the blessed hour of nighty-nite. I patted him gently on the head as I proceeded: “Georgie, I want you to know that this is absolutely nothing personal, rather it is strictly a business decision that has to be made… I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go as my son.” His eyes welled with tears. “Aw no… we’ll have none of that. Who wants a popsicle?!?

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