Ann Althouse on Cruz and Trump Family Interviews
Because I watched both horror shows. Why did I do that? I don't even know if I want to talk about it, but I put the time in — the gruesome time — so I feel I should get at least one post out of it. What can I say? The Trump one was stilted. The big group was lined up on stage. I heard over and over again that Donald Trump is the greatest father in the world. With Tiffany squished in there between the Ivana offspring and the mother of none of them — Melania — between all the kids and the I've-heard-he's-the-greatest-dad Donald.
The Cruz one was a squirm-fest of negative body language. Heidi Cruz kept her hands tightly clasped throughout, had zero reaction that one time Ted touched her on the knee, and remained so grimly clenched that I longed for the days of the sunny romance of Richard and Pat Nixon. They kept the little girls off the stage until the end, when the time was approaching 10 p.m. All I could think about was how they should be asleep. Why are they called upon to perform at all and what insensitivity to be asking them questions at a time when they should be dreaming? The older girl seemed capable of getting chatty but jerked with alarm when people laughed at little things that she said. I know the impulse to laugh at anything a child says — children are cute — but I remember being a child and wanting to be understood for what I was trying to say and feeling embarrassed that something I said was regarded as laughable for reasons that lay outside of the meaning that I had in mind.
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