It’s getting hard to have a conversation with my husband without a certain seven-year old trying to keep up.

“People were really upset about Hillary’s speech today,” I told my husband after dinner tonight.

“Why were they upset,” Rachel interjected. (She’s been following the primaries since January and knew that Hillary hadn’t conceded.)

“Well,” I started to explain, “she didn’t admit that Obama won the nomination and she started talking about everything she wants. She was acting kind of like…like…”

“…a queen!” Rachel added, finishing my sentence for me.

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right,” I answered, thinking about it.

Later I was talking to my husband about super delegates.

“How do you get to be a super delegate anyway?” I asked him.

“What’s a super delegate?” Rachel asked.

“Blah….blah…….blah…..blah……” I explained, “and they can vote for anyone they want.”

“I’d vote for Mom,” Hannah blurted out, looking up from a project she was working on.

“Are you and Dad super delegates?” Rachel asked.

+++++++++

Little brother has had some pretty good sleeping nights the past week or so, but last night wasn’t one of them. By morning I had hit a wall and at 6:30 put him in the baby swing so I could get a half hours worth of rest before facing the day. When he started fussing, my husband picked him up and I told him he could hand him over. I didn’t feed him. Instead, I laid him down beside me and looked into his face, without saying anything. He calmed down immediately and returned my gaze calmly. Then he gave me five or six calm little smiles. And I forgave him.