Selective amnesia?

Putting on a show?

She is a good little actress.

Daddy is already home but hasn't yet waded into his bottle.

"You're home early today," she soothes. "Special occasion?"

He's jonesing for a swig. Can't.

Your mother will be here soon.

Press conference on the lawn.

"Oh, right. I forgot. Do you want me to iron a shirt for you?"

Daddy shakes his head.

A jacket will do. You should put on something pretty, though.

She nods and we go to change, knowing where his eyes are.

80.

No Doubt He'll be watching the sway of Kaeleigh's hips, craving her.

And a drink. Not sure which one he craves more. But tonight **

he'll have to play the good (sober) husband and devoted father.

As I slip into a Vera Wang blouse, Tommy Hilfiger jeans, I can hear **

Mom's well-staged entrance.

Hello, Raymond. You look well.

The election is a few precious weeks away. Before the final charge, **

Mom needs to make her constituency believe she actually cares about family.

Her own family is the best place to start.

They're setting up the cameras.

Being fairly cute and very well dressed, we make a damn fine photo **

op, too. Especially just as the sun starts to sink behind our designer home.

81.

Reporters and news crews have gathered on the front lawn.

Mom herds us outside.

Don't forget to smile.

Yeah, Mom. Like what else would we do? Stick out our tongues?

Flip them off? Drop our pants, bend over, and tell them just what to kiss?

The thought makes me smile. Not only that, but the grin stretches lobe to lobe.

Poor Mom only knows I'm smiling.

She smiles too.

That's my girl.

82.

Daddy Isn't Running This time round, but he has before and is intimately aware of campaign protocol. Exactly as might be expected, **

he drapes an arm (a ravenous arm, but no one but his closest family members knows that) around Mom's shoulder.

She stiffens, and her smile slips ever so slightly, but I'm the only one who notices.

And she doesn't dare shrug him off.

Thank you all for coming, she says.

It's good to be home with my family.

The campaign trail is a lonely one.

I wonder just how lonely. I wonder if she's getting a little on the side.

Probably not. I can't imagine her **

actually getting close enough to someone--anyone--to invite them into her bed, let alone her pants.

I watch her, the ultimate politician, working the press like she was born for it.

I'll take questions now.

83.

Queries Fly **

...universal health care ...uranium enrichment ...trade deficit ...right to choose ...gay marriage ...immigration reform **

Mom is prepared, knows every answer by heart, could recite them in her sleep, in fact.

Harder questions.

...balanced budget ...troop withdrawal ...raising taxes ...torturing terrorists ...citizens' rights ...presidential authority **

Cool under pressure, she words her responses carefully, no missteps that might make dirty TV spots.

She's twelve for twelve.

And then...

84.

Some Thirtyish Ditz Tosses her long, dark-rooted platinum hair. In a cheap tweed suit with a skirt much too short **

to compliment the blocky legs poking out from under it, **

she clears her throat, squeaks, What about judicial reform?

How do you feel about judges **

who break the same laws they are sworn to uphold?

All eyes latch onto Daddy, whose face is the color of raw cotton. His own eyes scream **