Canvassing for Obama with Eight Year-Olds

I've been going door-to-door, talking with voters, since I was eighteen years old. In fact, when I interview for jobs (all the time, even now) I'm often asked if I have experience dealing with challenges.

Usually, I just point to my hair.

If the interviewer wants more, I talk about canvassing for Michael Dukakis in Florida in 1988.

'Nuff said.

Since my children were in strollers, they've been out with me. They remember talking to angry white men in Lutz about John Kerry when they looked like this.


I warned them Grandpa doesn't *like* to make sense when he votes, but they kept trying.

They remember talking to people in South Tampa about Jim Davis two years ago.

And this past weekend, we were out there again. We avoided vicious dogs, got some exercise, handed out campaign literature, discussed the issues, and left a sense of urgency about the importance of voting.

Know what I've noticed? People are way more polite when the boys are with me.

One guy was clearly itchin' to slam the door, but Oldest saw his Notre Dame tattoo and said, "I wanna go to Notre Dame and play football!"

That big Irish son of a b*tch smiled in spite of himself.

Then Youngest talked about meeting Barack Obama, shaking his hand, and how Obama will cut taxes for 95% of Americans.

That big Irish son of a b*tch is rethinking his allegiance to McCain. Guaranteed.

Maybe the next time those slackers in the Tampa office want a cute Jewish vegetarian to get out the vote, they'll look no further than the Robinson boys.

Two for the price of one, Elizabeth. Beat that.