One evening in April last year, amid the low point of our pregnancy struggles, I found a silver lining among all the gloom. I walked into the kitchen, double checked the math in my head, and said to Sarah, “At least there’s this: as of roughly today, he won’t be born in a Bush presidency.”
For a while I wasn’t sure I wanted to bring a new person into a world as fucked-up as ours. Things are still shaky, but we’re suddenly very hopeful about the country and world that Perquackey will get to grow up in. Happy Inauguration Day, everyone.