Here at MomBrain HQ, the U.S. presidential campaign has taken on glittery new promise. Invited to a dance gala by a far more cultured friend, MomBrain departed from her usual costume of jeans and t-shirt. I emerged from my room, wearing the only dress-up outfit I own, and twirled for the Guys. The Little Guy looked up with a shy smile, and in a whispery little voice said “Mommy. You look just like Hillary Clinton!” Once the screaming stopped, he said it was because of my light top, black pants, and shiny shoes. He was also quick to assure me that my face is not as wrinkly.

Later, I sat in a darkened auditorium while angry dancers with large metal circles on their heads poked out their elbows and strutted like chickens to the sound of bongo drums. (Like I said, culture.) I took my friend’s lead, smiling and clapping as if I had even the tiniest clue what the angry chickens were trying to say. And it occurred to me that this is what Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama do every day. They nod and smile and pretend they get it. Hillary cracks open a Schlitz and bellies up to the redneck bar. Barack loosens his tie and shoots hoops with the riff raff. And then I thought … I could do that. I can smile at angry chickens. I can listen and nod sagely and put my hand over my heart with feigned emotion. I could totally run for president!

As Hillary herself said, anything could happen in the next few months. So. In case Hillary and Barack are pecked to death by the angry chickens (or each other), my shoes are polished. I stand ready to serve. Because I get it. I really, really do.

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