Women’s March

In preparation for the Women’s March, Diana joyfully sat at our dining room table making posters. One read, “Hey America. Who wants to lose 239 lbs?” I later learned she “borrowed” line from the internet, but it was still great.

Meanwhile, Luca and Elijah sat on our couch with expressions of children who were being forced to go to a Women’s March.

I sat down with them and said, “Sometimes you have to do stuff you don’t want to do to make the world better.” That, plus a promise of McDonald’s got their spirits up.

We grabbed our pals Patrick, Leah, their amazing kid JB, and drove downtown to the route.

Unfortunately, we made the miscalculation of not bringing any money or water, plus Luca had to urgently pee.

I took him on a little walk and discovered there are no good places to find a pee pee corner. We decided it just didn’t feel right to whip out your wang in a place with half a million women fighting for their rights. So, he held it.

The march itself was great and wonderful and I hope meaningful for the boys. They got to see peaceful protest, strong women, and our friend Leah completely lose her mind on a weird religious counter protester. It was worth the price of admission to see her scare this dude so much a Chicago police officer had to give her a warning.

We didn’t stay for the post march speeches, because Diana had to work and Luca really needed a pee pee corner. Plus, I felt like I deserved a vanilla shake for my efforts.

As we walked out of McDonald’s a giant white SUV pulled up. Whatever kind is four times larger than an Escalade. The windows rolled down and the teen boys inside began shouting, “Trump! Trump! Four more years!”

The teens were exactly what you’d expect: White. Blonde. Tall. Handsome. A-Holes. They shouted at a group of women, “Hey. Go make me a sandwich!”

I prayed a little prayer that my sons would never turn out like them. I then looked down at Luca, who carried a little sign that said, “Make America Kind Again” and breathed a sigh of relief.