My psychic son and the Barack-o inauguration house party

My son Truman picked Barack Obama to be president a year before he was actually elected. He is psychic that way. He picked the Phillies for the 2008 World Series when the season was still too early too call, he became an LSU fan before the 2007 college football season began (much to the disappointment of my Bama-grad husband), and he named Kyle Busch the winner of several Nascar races but said Jimmy Johnson was more poised to win the Sprint Cup.

Early on in the presidential race, when both the Democratic and Republican nominees were toss-ups, my son proclaimed, “Barack-o is the winner!” He demonstrated this with his Hotwheels cars. Barack-o’s racecar was well in the lead of Hillary’s sedan and McCain’s pickup. I had just read a great piece about John Edwards and his fight against poverty in the New York Times Magazine – this was long before that nasty affair became public – and I was eyeing him for the nod. But my son was adamant. “He’s not even in the race, Mommy.” Oh how those words rang true.

And thus, my son became an Obama fan. His Barack-o racecar won all the Hotwheels races on our family room floor while we watched on TV as Barack Obama did the same in the primary and, later, in the general election. The morning after he won the nomination I woke my son to tell him the news. He said, “I know that, Mommy!”

I know my son’s interest in our president-elect has to do more with the way the name rolls off his tongue than the man’s beliefs or the color of his skin. It will be years before my boy embraces the historical importance when Barack Obama becomes our nation’s first African American president. I want him to understand that welcoming a new president is always a proud moment. It is the practice of democracy, which makes this country a pretty good one in which to raise a kid.

I want my son to remember as much about the election and inauguration as possible. And so tonight – Monday night – I am going to turn on Disney Channel (8:00-9:30 p.m. ET/PT) and tune into the “Kids’ Inaugural: We Are the Future” concert honoring military families. We’re going to pop an enormous bowl of popcorn, drink tall glasses of sugary soda (well, I’ll probably have wine in my glass), and dance around the house to Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers and all those other kiddie bands I’m not yet familiar with.

And then, true to form, my son will quickly lose interest. He’ll walk over to his toy box and pop open one of his many Hotwheels suitcases. He’ll grab a handful of cars and stagger them in racing position on the floor. And then he’ll tell me who I should bet on in the Super Bowl.

(Photo: Flickr, respres)