I’m a political junkie; always have been. I love learning about the candidates, sure — but also about their wives and kids. Ted Cruz’s girls piqued my radar particularly because I love their names: Caroline and Catherine (I have a child with one of those names; the other belongs, of course, to a world-famous duchess. How can you not like someone who chooses monikers so well?)
But as the campaign has progressed, I find myself pitying little Caroline Cruz.
On TV the other day, a reporter asked dad Ted what he’d done that morning. He replied that his younger daughter, Catherine, had run in to wake him up with a big hug. Another time, of Catherine, he said she “is sweet, sweet, sweet. She will curl up in your lap.”
Big sis Caroline, 7, is apparently another story.
The press was salivating when this little girl refused to play by the rules, naughtily giving her dad bunny ears one day on the campaign trail.
When asked to describe his older daughter, Ted called Caroline “a rascal,” and said she “has an ornery, cynical spirit that is wonderful.”
Hmmm. I don’t know about you, but I’m not seeing an ornery, cynical spirit as exactly high praise — although I do credit Dad for phrasing it as a positive.
I feel bad for these kids. They’re very young, apparently spend quite a bit of time on the campaign trail, and of course none of this running for President was their idea to begin with. And when I see a picture like this, I really feel for Caroline.
There she is on the left, apparently just over this whole thing. And there’s Catherine on the other hand, sweet and smiling for the camera. No real surprise that she’s the one held up, huh? Scroll on to the next photo. Again, Caroline is not playing the “good girl” publicity game.
Maybe one reason I feel for Caroline is that *I* would have been her. I wasn’t the sunny child, running open-armed to hug a stranger. No, I was standing at a distance, giving people the side-eye. I remember once as a young child, I was at church, sucking my thumb (actually my 2 fingers). An older man came up to me and jovially asked, “What flavor are they?” I remember wondering, WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU? I suspect Catherine would have given him a sunny smile and a high five — maybe even speculated that her fingers tasted “pittashio” or something equally endearing.
I’m guessing Catherine’s journey through life will be an easier one than her sister’s. But we need the Carolines, too.
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