The irony of Youngest supporting Trump in light of my closely held personal beliefs is not lost on me. Ah, yes, the generational divide. This just isn't your run-of-the-mill teenage rebellion. It's supposed to be the free thinking youth who want to expel the structure erected by their conservative elders. But it's not.
I try to gauge how much Youngest owns the stance that he would vote for Trump on his own versus the perverse pleasure he gets at stabbing me. As I said in Part One, he loves to take the opposite stance and keep that stance because he gets off on annoying other people. That's not all he's learned from the master. He's also learned the art of needling others. I tell you, it's hard to tamp down the pride when you see yourself mirrored in your kids. [Since I have to continue to pen this saga as a means of working this all out for myself, I might as well keep some humor intact.]
I can't gauge what portion is real and what portion is the extra seasoning he brings to every exchange. It doesn't really matter, though, what portion is real. Pete says he's 14 and doesn't realize the impact of such a choice. [For the record, Pete would never have voted for Trump. He would also have never voted for Clinton.] I've tried to articulate my fears of Trump, and I've tried to bring them to their most base: Trump lacks impulse control which could lead us to war and he will stack the courts with judges which will make the landscape of America starkly bleak for the remainder of my life and a large portion of my children's lives.
He would vote for Trump.
And, so, yes, I did say to him on more than one occasion that I'm horrified that I am raising a son who would vote for Trump. And yesterday, when he asked me if we would get through this and if we would be okay, I said, "Oh, honey, I love you. I just like you a little less."
When he asked if I was kidding, I told him I was not.
Yes, I am crying as I write this.