Camp Potluck

My nephew J is quite excited to have his own tent, regardless of whether he has to camp with donkeys or elephants.

Just after I took this picture of J two weekends ago at his grandparents’ house, the whole clan headed off to church. After the service, while I was retrieving our misdirected few from the potluck line–after all, Mom and Dad had lunch plans for us already, and we were supposed to go straight home–my former Sunday school teacher and pastor came up with a good idea applicable to both political camps.

“I don’t understand–Do you understand?–why the presidential candidates can’t just talk about what they want to do as president, and let the people decide who they want in office, instead of spending their whole campaigns pointing out what’s wrong with the other candidates,” he said.

I nodded my head vigorously. “Oh, I know,” I commiserated. “I’m with you on that [but probably not much else].”

He continued, “What do you say we run for office, you and me, opposing each other? And let’s just talk about our goals for the country, and I won’t talk about how you’re bad (“Please don’t,” I interrupted) and you won’t talk about how bad I am.”

“I’m in,” I said.

“And then maybe we can both be elected, and run the country together,” he said.

“Sounds good.”

“Sounds good? Alright then.” He looked satisfied. “Are you staying for the potluck?”

“Thanks, but Mom already has lunch plans,” I said. I left with the rest of the family, and we scarfed down hamburgers and hot dogs out in the driveway, right near where J’s tent had been set up.