Can you imagine those old, creaky ghosts in the White House and the way their ectoplasmic juices are going to explode with surprise and then delight when these girls are giggling their way through their new home?
I can imagine the ghost of some old white-wigged president playing hide-n-seek with Sasha. I can imagine the ghost of his wife, reaching out to pat those children, sighing with frustration that she can't hold them in her spectral arms. I can imagine Malia growing up, those long legs getting longer and longer, that beautiful face becoming a woman's face.
I can see Michele, welcoming foreign dignitaries with that grace she holds in every atom of her body.
I can see lots of kisses in the White House for four (eight?!) years. Real kisses.
I can see Barack, with his thoughtful and intelligent mind, considering those babies, that wife, in every decision he makes.
John Lennon said that here in the US we go out every four years and elect a new daddy.
I like our new daddy. I think we done real good.
Bless our hearts. At long last, bless our American hearts.