"But I think Jesus could not give the children hugs because the children would catch on fire!"
--Danny, panicking because of his excellent memory. I had told him months before about Jesus' glory.
"Mommy, Charlene controls 90% of my agency. If you ask me to do a chore and I refuse, ask Charlene and she will make me do it.”
--Eric
Danny: No! That music isn't pretty enough!
Mommy: [appalled] Danny, Mozart was a genius! He taught himself to play the violin at age four, slightly older than you are now! He is widely considered the greatest musician ever to grace this earth! It's impossible for me to produce music prettier than this beautiful violin concerto!”
Danny: Mommy, I want the German CD instead. [He was referring to a Pimsleur language CD. --ed]
Mommy: [helpfully] Mozart spoke German!
Danny: [glares stubbornly]
Mommy: You turn up your nose at the zenith of western culture to listen to a guy who sounds like he's been kidnapped, drugged, and forced to read his captors' ransom demands auf Deutsch? I find this...troubling.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Best Mommy Moments: May, 2007
“Henceforth, any stuffed animal wishing to leave the Papizan Chair must have a travel visa, authorized by me!”
--Mommy, cranky at the mess of stuffed animals sprawling across her floor.
“You have opened a hole there, Gail. Eric will walk up to you with a piece of paper saying, 'Sign this! Mr. Alligator needs to go upstairs!'”
--My neighbor, P., about the travel visa story.
“...Draconian measures...”
“...Feel like criminal terrorist suspects...”
“...Sever diplomatic relations...”
“...Rescind most favored trade status...”
“...Babysitting strike...”
--Angry snippets of conversation emanating from the Papizan Parliament. I suspect dragons Reggie and Eustace, particularly, of murmuring about the Travel Visa crisis.
“...One day the dragon sneezed in the woods and caught the trees on fire!” [Page turn]
“The dragon ran to the nearest house. He knocked and the Three Bears answered.” [Page turn]
“'Help!' cried the fiery dragon, 'A tree is on fire!' Quickly the Three Bears grabbed a bucket of--”
[Pause]
“Danny, what do you think the Bears grabbed? Water? I bet you're right. [Page turn]
“Oatmeal???” [Mommy cleans her glasses] [Danny giggles] “Yes, it says here they grabbed a bucket of oatmeal and rushed to smother the flames with their breakfast porridge!”
--Mommy, “reading” Danny like a book. A “page turn” means folding him in half briefly.
--Mommy, cranky at the mess of stuffed animals sprawling across her floor.
“You have opened a hole there, Gail. Eric will walk up to you with a piece of paper saying, 'Sign this! Mr. Alligator needs to go upstairs!'”
--My neighbor, P., about the travel visa story.
“...Draconian measures...”
“...Feel like criminal terrorist suspects...”
“...Sever diplomatic relations...”
“...Rescind most favored trade status...”
“...Babysitting strike...”
--Angry snippets of conversation emanating from the Papizan Parliament. I suspect dragons Reggie and Eustace, particularly, of murmuring about the Travel Visa crisis.
“...One day the dragon sneezed in the woods and caught the trees on fire!” [Page turn]
“The dragon ran to the nearest house. He knocked and the Three Bears answered.” [Page turn]
“'Help!' cried the fiery dragon, 'A tree is on fire!' Quickly the Three Bears grabbed a bucket of--”
[Pause]
“Danny, what do you think the Bears grabbed? Water? I bet you're right. [Page turn]
“Oatmeal???” [Mommy cleans her glasses] [Danny giggles] “Yes, it says here they grabbed a bucket of oatmeal and rushed to smother the flames with their breakfast porridge!”
--Mommy, “reading” Danny like a book. A “page turn” means folding him in half briefly.
Best Mommy Moments: April, 2007
When I grow up, if the girl I decide to marry tries to change her name to Berry, I will change my name to something else because I do not want to have the same name as the girl I want to marry.
--Eric
Are you being violent? Are you violent?
--Eric
Eric: [to Danny] Okay, I am pretending to kill you!
Mommy: There will be NO killing!
Eric: ... Okay, I am pretending to destroy you!
Are you convincing me to play with you even though you have nothing on your bottom?
--Eric
Eric! No, MA'AM!
--Danny, irritated at his brother.
“...next thing I knew, 'Baby Jesus' was floating upside down on the ceiling, erupting into a pillar of fire by night, and numerous other things.”
--Mommy, after foolishly allowing the kids to watch the “Jack-Jack Attack” bonus feature of The Incredibles. “Baby Jesus” was, in fact, the baby boy doll I bought for educational purposes some years ago.
“No, you're spelling it wrong!!” [Aspie Meltdown]
--Eric, to his preschool teacher, dictating big words for his “journal.” (He was right, of course, and she was rueful.)
On Sunday, Danny tried to tell me that we had to drive through and look at three neighborhoods. (Because he is three.) And we looked at one but then I was hungry and said we needed to go home. He fussed and started to scream at me. I told him to stop screaming, and reiterated that we were going home, because I said so, because I was in charge.
"No, Mommy! I am in charge!"
And I said, "Let's try an experiment." So I pulled into the Food Lion parking lot and put the car in park.
"Okay, Danny," I said, "If you're in charge, you tell the car where to go."
"No, Mommy, I want you to drive to look at neighborhoods! No, Mommy, I am in charge!"
"Danny,” I suggested, “try saying, 'car, I want you to go forward and then turn right to get out of this parking lot.'"
So Danny hesitantly tried it. (He was also getting distracted enough that the screaming was waning.)
Tyndale, bless his marvelous soul, did not respond. I surreptitiously patted him and reminded him which hands feed him (i.e., who had filled him up with gas two days earlier).
Eric had been staring like we were both nuts. I turned him."Eric," I said, "You seem like an impartial observer. Would you say that the car obeyed Danny?"
"Did it?" asked Eric.
I sighed.
"Did it go forward and then turn right?" I asked.
"No," said Eric, blinking like I was totally crazy.
"Let's try a new experiment," I said. Surreptitiously putting the car in drive, I ordered, “Tyndale! I want you to go forward and then turn right.” And he did! (Good car. Well-trained. Think I'll keep him.)
"Well, Danny," I said, "We are all in the car. We can only go where the car drives us. And apparently, the car will only obey me. That means we go where I tell the car to go...and I am telling the car to go home now. So, apparently, I am in charge."
"Oh," said Danny.
(Wahahahahaaha!)
"Mommy, I kept the milk dry!"
--Danny, proud of himself for thinking to cover his cup of milk before going out in the rain.
“...So then the hyperactive electron did another lap around the circuit, bouncing crazily off the walls...”
--Mommy, telling one of Jon and Gail's signature Bedtime Stories for Engineers.
--Eric
Are you being violent? Are you violent?
--Eric
Eric: [to Danny] Okay, I am pretending to kill you!
Mommy: There will be NO killing!
Eric: ... Okay, I am pretending to destroy you!
Are you convincing me to play with you even though you have nothing on your bottom?
--Eric
Eric! No, MA'AM!
--Danny, irritated at his brother.
“...next thing I knew, 'Baby Jesus' was floating upside down on the ceiling, erupting into a pillar of fire by night, and numerous other things.”
--Mommy, after foolishly allowing the kids to watch the “Jack-Jack Attack” bonus feature of The Incredibles. “Baby Jesus” was, in fact, the baby boy doll I bought for educational purposes some years ago.
“No, you're spelling it wrong!!” [Aspie Meltdown]
--Eric, to his preschool teacher, dictating big words for his “journal.” (He was right, of course, and she was rueful.)
On Sunday, Danny tried to tell me that we had to drive through and look at three neighborhoods. (Because he is three.) And we looked at one but then I was hungry and said we needed to go home. He fussed and started to scream at me. I told him to stop screaming, and reiterated that we were going home, because I said so, because I was in charge.
"No, Mommy! I am in charge!"
And I said, "Let's try an experiment." So I pulled into the Food Lion parking lot and put the car in park.
"Okay, Danny," I said, "If you're in charge, you tell the car where to go."
"No, Mommy, I want you to drive to look at neighborhoods! No, Mommy, I am in charge!"
"Danny,” I suggested, “try saying, 'car, I want you to go forward and then turn right to get out of this parking lot.'"
So Danny hesitantly tried it. (He was also getting distracted enough that the screaming was waning.)
Tyndale, bless his marvelous soul, did not respond. I surreptitiously patted him and reminded him which hands feed him (i.e., who had filled him up with gas two days earlier).
Eric had been staring like we were both nuts. I turned him."Eric," I said, "You seem like an impartial observer. Would you say that the car obeyed Danny?"
"Did it?" asked Eric.
I sighed.
"Did it go forward and then turn right?" I asked.
"No," said Eric, blinking like I was totally crazy.
"Let's try a new experiment," I said. Surreptitiously putting the car in drive, I ordered, “Tyndale! I want you to go forward and then turn right.” And he did! (Good car. Well-trained. Think I'll keep him.)
"Well, Danny," I said, "We are all in the car. We can only go where the car drives us. And apparently, the car will only obey me. That means we go where I tell the car to go...and I am telling the car to go home now. So, apparently, I am in charge."
"Oh," said Danny.
(Wahahahahaaha!)
"Mommy, I kept the milk dry!"
--Danny, proud of himself for thinking to cover his cup of milk before going out in the rain.
“...So then the hyperactive electron did another lap around the circuit, bouncing crazily off the walls...”
--Mommy, telling one of Jon and Gail's signature Bedtime Stories for Engineers.
Best Mommy Moments: March, 2007
"Oh, God, I thank thee that I am not as other monsters...Bless my siblings to be as helpful, kind, patient, prompt, and humble as am I...”
--I-derry-keeka, being sanctimonious.
“Mommy, I want you to punish da computer! Mommy! I want you to put da computer in da corner!”
--Danny, angry because an empty computer case fell on his foot.
"Mommy I want you to come play with me in the play room because I want to play in the play room because it is a play room."
--Danny, practicing the circular logic of a young three-year-old.
“When I-derry-keeka's Mommy writes stories about me, they are real.”
--Eric, on the fiction vs. non-fiction works in his binders.
"Be gentle with that sword!!!”'
--Mommy, hypocritically admonishing children not to hurt each other with toy swords she had provided.
"Mommy, Bear is taking good care of the baby. He is not eating the baby!"
--Danny, overseeing Bear's babysitting of the Baby Doll.
“When they talk about the pitter-patter of little feet...I don't think they meant the adorable-but-aggravating sound of TRUANT FEET who ought to be IN BED ASLEEP so as to stave off ATHLETE'S FOOT and GANGRENE! It would be a REAL SHAME if I had to SHACKLE those feet to the BEDFRAME!!”
--Mommy, frustrated for obvious reasons.
Mommy: I am putting the car in time out because it's getting too close to the wet paint. [Does so] [Pause] Danny, if your fingers get too close, I will put them in time out, too.
Danny: Mommy, can you put only my hand in time out?
Mommy: Two options. First, we could chop off the hand and put the rogue digits in time out. Second, we could incarcerate all of Danny.
Eric: [very seriously] I think the second option is the correct solution.
Danny: No, Mommy, don't cut my hand!
Mommy: I am issuing a ruling. Any further infractions will result in Danny suffering the consequences for his single, out-of-control appendage. It is unjust...but I'm not required to be a fair judge. [Pause] (Danny, I would never actually do that.)
"No, Mommy, I want you pounce me one two three four five six seven eight nine ten even twelf firteen fiftsisseight nineteen twenty times!"
--Danny
Danny: Eric, I died.
Danny: Eric, I died. Eric, I died! Eric, I died!!!!
[pause]
Eric: ...
Danny: Eric, I am going to be died. Eric, I was DIED! Eric, I DIED!!!!!!
Eric [responding, finally]: When will you be resurrected?
Danny: In one...two...free days!!!
Eric: What is one septillion times ten?
Mommy: I...don't know. I'd have to look it up.
Eric: Is it ten septillion?
Mommy: [gaping] ...
Mommy: Uh...probably!
--I-derry-keeka, being sanctimonious.
“Mommy, I want you to punish da computer! Mommy! I want you to put da computer in da corner!”
--Danny, angry because an empty computer case fell on his foot.
"Mommy I want you to come play with me in the play room because I want to play in the play room because it is a play room."
--Danny, practicing the circular logic of a young three-year-old.
“When I-derry-keeka's Mommy writes stories about me, they are real.”
--Eric, on the fiction vs. non-fiction works in his binders.
"Be gentle with that sword!!!”'
--Mommy, hypocritically admonishing children not to hurt each other with toy swords she had provided.
"Mommy, Bear is taking good care of the baby. He is not eating the baby!"
--Danny, overseeing Bear's babysitting of the Baby Doll.
“When they talk about the pitter-patter of little feet...I don't think they meant the adorable-but-aggravating sound of TRUANT FEET who ought to be IN BED ASLEEP so as to stave off ATHLETE'S FOOT and GANGRENE! It would be a REAL SHAME if I had to SHACKLE those feet to the BEDFRAME!!”
--Mommy, frustrated for obvious reasons.
Mommy: I am putting the car in time out because it's getting too close to the wet paint. [Does so] [Pause] Danny, if your fingers get too close, I will put them in time out, too.
Danny: Mommy, can you put only my hand in time out?
Mommy: Two options. First, we could chop off the hand and put the rogue digits in time out. Second, we could incarcerate all of Danny.
Eric: [very seriously] I think the second option is the correct solution.
Danny: No, Mommy, don't cut my hand!
Mommy: I am issuing a ruling. Any further infractions will result in Danny suffering the consequences for his single, out-of-control appendage. It is unjust...but I'm not required to be a fair judge. [Pause] (Danny, I would never actually do that.)
"No, Mommy, I want you pounce me one two three four five six seven eight nine ten even twelf firteen fiftsisseight nineteen twenty times!"
--Danny
Danny: Eric, I died.
Danny: Eric, I died. Eric, I died! Eric, I died!!!!
[pause]
Eric: ...
Danny: Eric, I am going to be died. Eric, I was DIED! Eric, I DIED!!!!!!
Eric [responding, finally]: When will you be resurrected?
Danny: In one...two...free days!!!
Eric: What is one septillion times ten?
Mommy: I...don't know. I'd have to look it up.
Eric: Is it ten septillion?
Mommy: [gaping] ...
Mommy: Uh...probably!
Saturday, May 17, 2008
A Mother's Magnum Opus
[I wrote this on Mother's Day, but then got absorbed in an anthology of best parenting quotes from the last year. Eventually I decided to split them into two separate entries.]
A few months ago, I was at Enrichment playing a getting-to-know-you game. We had to take turns answering questions like, “What was your most embarrassing moment?” or “What was your worst date?” I was asked, “What accomplishment are you most proud of?” and without thinking, I said, “Eric.” I quickly amended, “I'm really proud of Danny, too; I just meant I have put an awful lot of work into helping Eric with his special needs, and teaching him skills, and I am very proud of how much progress he has made.” Everyone there agreed that I had done a good job with both my boys.
A few hours later, I realized that several years ago, I would have thought “National Merit” and said “academic achievements.”
Almost it bugs me, almost, that I have succumbed to the sugary stereotypes of motherhood. Back when I was earning those academic honors, I hated the thought of becoming a simpering Mommy, so absorbed in her children that she ignored everything else. “I will be a stay-at-home Mom,” I thought with martyrdom, “Because that is the best thing for the family. But if all I do is discuss diapers and potty-training, I will lose my mind. I refuse to let my brains rot when I have small children!”
Well, I almost did lose my mind. In part because after giving birth, it seemed like people only asked how the baby was doing, and completely stopped asking my opinion about local education, or national politics, or international relations. And in part because a baby can't provide meaningful conversation. Mercifully, my prediction that things would get better once Eric could talk proved true. He may have exhausted me with his Aspie-induced meltdowns, but at least they were interesting Aspie-induced meltdowns. And frequently funny.
My friend Aimee once remarked, “God gave you smart problems.” For this I am grateful. Both Eric and Danny have special needs which have required me to do a great deal of research. I have had to invent creative approaches to handling those problems. I have used my talents for teaching, languages, melodrama, writing, music, and imagination to enrich my children. And now I have amazing kids with prodigious vocabularies!
I do not want to be defined only by my children. I have many interests that will keep me busy long after they have left home. I will:
* Write the great American novel!
* Earn a degree in engineering!
* Then write the great American science fiction novel!
* Build my dream castle with a hobbit hole in the backyard!
* Get a law degree.
* Travel the world with Jon, visiting the great castles of Europe and the bazaars of Turkey and the temples of Asia!
* Serve a couples' mission. Get him appointed a mission president, and then help to craft mission policy. Expound doctrine at zone conferences instead of just lecturing boys about hygiene and etiquette. (Though I'll do that too, sigh.)
* Teach Institute
* Get a history degree.
* Join the board of CES. Reform all curricula, especially boring primary lessons and fluffy Young Womens manuals.
* Become the next General Young Womens' President. Preach substantive, not simpering, sermons in General Conference. Imitate Sherri Dew.
* Become a certified ASL interpreter.
* Get a Master's degree in vocal performance.
* Take over the world.
* Get a Ph.D. in comparative religion.
* Testify as an expert witness before a Senate committee.
* Earn a linguistics degree.
* Become truly fluent in German.
* Study Hindi, Arabic, and Mandarin.
* Get a degree in International Relations. (That one is optional.)
* Become an NPR pundit.
* Take math classes with Jon and beat him on a calculus test. (Now that would be challenging.)
* Build robots with him and win a battlebots contest. Use our battlebots in our attempt to re-conquer the world. (After I got distracted with other projects and trusted my minions too much.)
* Grit my teeth and get a degree in education. (Maybe.) (Then again, maybe not.)
* Run for school board and/or the U.S. Senate.
* And, most importantly, subvert grandkids. [Evil cackle]
But in order to get really good grandkids to subvert, I have to raise my own kids first. It isn't “sacrifice;” it's an investment.
It makes sense that if my kids represent my largest investment of time, they should similarly represent my greatest accomplishment. Fifty years from now, I would rather look back at my family as my magnum opus, rather than an award I won at seventeen.
I am proud--I am &*#@ proud--to have been a National Merit Scholar. But I don't want to be like the guy who says, decades later, that the highlight of his life was the year he spent as captain of the football team in high school. That's just pathetic.
I still hate cleaning the house. I may enjoy the teaching aspects of motherhood, but I don't get thrilled about the “nurturing” side, like making dinner, scrubbing toilets, bathing babies, and changing diapers. It's mind-numbing...and I HATE being bored. Perhaps my biggest goal will be to hire a maid once the kids are grown...?
I am grateful to my own mother, and to Jon's. Among my more major goals is to get thank-you notes from daughters-in-law who say, like I said to my own mother-in-law, “Thanks for producing an amazing man! He's a wonderful husband!”
A few months ago, I was at Enrichment playing a getting-to-know-you game. We had to take turns answering questions like, “What was your most embarrassing moment?” or “What was your worst date?” I was asked, “What accomplishment are you most proud of?” and without thinking, I said, “Eric.” I quickly amended, “I'm really proud of Danny, too; I just meant I have put an awful lot of work into helping Eric with his special needs, and teaching him skills, and I am very proud of how much progress he has made.” Everyone there agreed that I had done a good job with both my boys.
A few hours later, I realized that several years ago, I would have thought “National Merit” and said “academic achievements.”
Almost it bugs me, almost, that I have succumbed to the sugary stereotypes of motherhood. Back when I was earning those academic honors, I hated the thought of becoming a simpering Mommy, so absorbed in her children that she ignored everything else. “I will be a stay-at-home Mom,” I thought with martyrdom, “Because that is the best thing for the family. But if all I do is discuss diapers and potty-training, I will lose my mind. I refuse to let my brains rot when I have small children!”
Well, I almost did lose my mind. In part because after giving birth, it seemed like people only asked how the baby was doing, and completely stopped asking my opinion about local education, or national politics, or international relations. And in part because a baby can't provide meaningful conversation. Mercifully, my prediction that things would get better once Eric could talk proved true. He may have exhausted me with his Aspie-induced meltdowns, but at least they were interesting Aspie-induced meltdowns. And frequently funny.
My friend Aimee once remarked, “God gave you smart problems.” For this I am grateful. Both Eric and Danny have special needs which have required me to do a great deal of research. I have had to invent creative approaches to handling those problems. I have used my talents for teaching, languages, melodrama, writing, music, and imagination to enrich my children. And now I have amazing kids with prodigious vocabularies!
I do not want to be defined only by my children. I have many interests that will keep me busy long after they have left home. I will:
* Write the great American novel!
* Earn a degree in engineering!
* Then write the great American science fiction novel!
* Build my dream castle with a hobbit hole in the backyard!
* Get a law degree.
* Travel the world with Jon, visiting the great castles of Europe and the bazaars of Turkey and the temples of Asia!
* Serve a couples' mission. Get him appointed a mission president, and then help to craft mission policy. Expound doctrine at zone conferences instead of just lecturing boys about hygiene and etiquette. (Though I'll do that too, sigh.)
* Teach Institute
* Get a history degree.
* Join the board of CES. Reform all curricula, especially boring primary lessons and fluffy Young Womens manuals.
* Become the next General Young Womens' President. Preach substantive, not simpering, sermons in General Conference. Imitate Sherri Dew.
* Become a certified ASL interpreter.
* Get a Master's degree in vocal performance.
* Take over the world.
* Get a Ph.D. in comparative religion.
* Testify as an expert witness before a Senate committee.
* Earn a linguistics degree.
* Become truly fluent in German.
* Study Hindi, Arabic, and Mandarin.
* Get a degree in International Relations. (That one is optional.)
* Become an NPR pundit.
* Take math classes with Jon and beat him on a calculus test. (Now that would be challenging.)
* Build robots with him and win a battlebots contest. Use our battlebots in our attempt to re-conquer the world. (After I got distracted with other projects and trusted my minions too much.)
* Grit my teeth and get a degree in education. (Maybe.) (Then again, maybe not.)
* Run for school board and/or the U.S. Senate.
* And, most importantly, subvert grandkids. [Evil cackle]
But in order to get really good grandkids to subvert, I have to raise my own kids first. It isn't “sacrifice;” it's an investment.
It makes sense that if my kids represent my largest investment of time, they should similarly represent my greatest accomplishment. Fifty years from now, I would rather look back at my family as my magnum opus, rather than an award I won at seventeen.
I am proud--I am &*#@ proud--to have been a National Merit Scholar. But I don't want to be like the guy who says, decades later, that the highlight of his life was the year he spent as captain of the football team in high school. That's just pathetic.
I still hate cleaning the house. I may enjoy the teaching aspects of motherhood, but I don't get thrilled about the “nurturing” side, like making dinner, scrubbing toilets, bathing babies, and changing diapers. It's mind-numbing...and I HATE being bored. Perhaps my biggest goal will be to hire a maid once the kids are grown...?
I am grateful to my own mother, and to Jon's. Among my more major goals is to get thank-you notes from daughters-in-law who say, like I said to my own mother-in-law, “Thanks for producing an amazing man! He's a wonderful husband!”
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Deference Due to Dates
Today was to have been Marian's due date.
I wish I had a revised "due date" for when I'll get to meet her.
I wish I had a revised "due date" for when I'll get to meet her.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Obama's Oratory
I just emailed Barack Obama's campaign:
"I was very impressed with yesterday's speech on race. Just as only Nixon could go to China, only a man of Senator Obama's background could deliver this landmark address to open real, realistic dialogue. I disagree with Mr. Obama on many issues, especially abortion and gay marriage, but I respect him. On this issue, I agree with him. On this issue, he got it exactly right.
"Although I feel I cannot vote for him, I appreciate what he did yesterday for our country. Although I will not vote for him, part of me would enjoy watching him be president."
--Gail Berry
I have now donated money to John McCain (before his New Hampshire victory, I might add) and emailed Barack Obama. I feel engaged in the process! Let the peoples' voices be heard!
Maybe I should email Hillary and say, "I don't want you to be president, but if you become such, you really ought to throw Bill out of the situation room--just once--during an international crisis. Think about it."
I must add, this really has been the most -interesting- campaign I've ever followed.
Comments?
"I was very impressed with yesterday's speech on race. Just as only Nixon could go to China, only a man of Senator Obama's background could deliver this landmark address to open real, realistic dialogue. I disagree with Mr. Obama on many issues, especially abortion and gay marriage, but I respect him. On this issue, I agree with him. On this issue, he got it exactly right.
"Although I feel I cannot vote for him, I appreciate what he did yesterday for our country. Although I will not vote for him, part of me would enjoy watching him be president."
--Gail Berry
I have now donated money to John McCain (before his New Hampshire victory, I might add) and emailed Barack Obama. I feel engaged in the process! Let the peoples' voices be heard!
Maybe I should email Hillary and say, "I don't want you to be president, but if you become such, you really ought to throw Bill out of the situation room--just once--during an international crisis. Think about it."
I must add, this really has been the most -interesting- campaign I've ever followed.
Comments?
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