Donald Trump should play with his eleven grandchildren

Or at least referee a match between King Kong vs Chuckie vs a horde of Gremlins on Espresso for a day

Every time my daughter and her husband and the grand kids return home to Phoenix after visiting us here in Tucson our once bustling hacienda feels empty as an airline hangar in Qatar.

When the grandkids are here it’s a wonderful chaotic party house.

In their absence, washing sheets, I spy an orphaned pink flip flop in the laundry pile and this old man, the most cynical cynic west of the San Pedro gets choked up.

Sitting in the post-visit quiet, perusing the internet, I attempt to slide back into my normal writing pattern. Right there in the pixels in front of me I am stunned to learn Trump has eleven grandchildren. Imagine that. Grandpa Donald. Grampy Trump. Poppy Donald has grand kids. What? Our orange Hitler has little darlings?

At the White House they’re always around him, hugging him, tickling him and playing with him. And those are just the “Yes Men” in his cabinet. Where are his grandkids? Trump’s grandchildren are absent. With a tiny heart cold as a popsicle, Poppy Donald has no time. Where are they? A daycare in El Salvador? Who knows.

How to redeem Donald Trump’s soul.

I envision an instance of justice.

Donald Trump, this Court of Cosmic Justice sentences you to life as a single grandparent and compels you, you gaseous bag of bilge, to raise your 11 sweet, wonderful, delightful grandchildren on your own, in our Court of Cosmic Justice world, created just for you.

Where’s my due process?

You are receiving the justice you afforded others.

Furthermore this Court will not permit you to use intimidation, coercion or fear to motivate your 11 grandchildren to cooperate.

Kill me now, your Honor.

Think of it as going to play nine holes. Only instead of playing golf you’re going to be playing with your grandchildren. For eternity. Crawling in circles on your knees like a pony. Or getting punched in the balls by a giggling 2-year-old. Or playing hide and go seek. Red Rover, red rover.

Your honor, need I remind you I am the President of the United States? I’m late to tee off.

This Court has cancelled your game and all your future appointments. This Court and your grandchildren will see to it you’re going to get some genuine exercise. And you will hug each grandchild every morning and at bedtime.

Ew-yuck. Germs! THE GERMS! Filthy little-

Mr.Trump, Ebenezer Scrooge was visited by three spirits. They transformed him in one night. This Court believes custody of your grandchildren will have the same effect. Grandpa, you are free to go and begin your sentence.

Grandpa Donnie’s new life begins in a suburban home.

Grandpa Donnie learned to shorten his bedtime stories. Grandpa became be so tired from playing with 11 grandchildren he came to sleep better than he ever did in his life. He was too tired to tweet.

What was happening to him? He didn’t understand the feelings he was experiencing for the first time in his life. No one had ever played with him. Or humbled him. Not like his grandkids.

With his days full of “Grandpa” duties, Donnie gave up certain silly habits like putting on his orange make up every day or fussing with his comb over. There just wasn’t time. His coiffure often fell victim to a mob of his little grandchildren, little Visigoths who wanted to “pet the sleeping beaver” or “muss the muskrat”. The marauding grandkids loved to smear his bronzer on everything and move his plaques and play with his trophies and make lasso ropes out of his red ties. Grandpa Donnie learned to wait in line to use the bathroom. Every day he made breakfasts and packed lunches for his grandchildren with the help of RFK, jr. Grandpa Donnie taught his grandchildren so much! He taught them how to cheat at miniature golf and how to heckle professional wrestlers and how to bluff through hard questions and how to never have to do any homework ever! Grandpa Donnie took them all to the National Zoo where he misidentified the animals. Grandpa Donnie taught them all “modern” math using “Project 2025” flashcards.

Hey kids, if 5,000,000 children lack access to Medicaid and there is a .029% mortality rate how many children are likely to die?

Trump needs his grandchildren around him, “advising” him. Instead of his puerile “Yes Men”.

Any toddler blessed with innocent honesty would be superior to the infantile sycophants guiding this administration. A barely sentient tyke could tell anyone tariffs are idiotic or that taxing the poor to give to the rich is demonstrably a diaper load of economic doodoo. If there is the faintest glimmer of humanity within that cold slab of human pork ocuppying the Oval Office I am convinced confinement with his grandchildren could draw it out of him.

OK that was enough. Stop it. Shush. Put that down. Don’t touch that. Get off grandpa! Get down. Get lost. All eleven of you. You’re fired. Get out. Grandpa wants to tweet. Who threw that ball at my head? I’ll call out the army-

Grandpa’s a taco! Grandpa’s a taco! Grandpa’s a taco!

Give me my phone. You little son of a-

The doggy took it. The doggy took it.

Taco head! Taco head!

We don’t have a dog! Put those Super Bowl trophies down. Stop touching my desk. What did you do with my Chicken Nuggets?

Stevie threw them in your shark tank, grandpa. Stevie! Stevie! Stevie!

I’m going to kill him! Tell that punk kid I’ve got immunity! Where’s my bronzer?

Ah-choo!

What was that?

Excuse me, (sniffle) grandpa...

GERMS! Get me RFK, Jr. and Walter Reed. Never mind. I got it on speed dial. Secret Service! Jump this kid.

Grandpa, can we do a sleepover? Can Mr. Musk’s grandkids come over?

How many grandkids does he-

327. Grandpa, you smell funny. How come you can tell lies but we can’t tell lies?Nana Melania says you shouldn’t eat those. She says they’re making you fat as a Slovenian Carnival balloon.

Who just posted “Doo doo ))) poopy poop @ poop” on my “X” account? Put those down. Who took my phone?! Stop poking each other. Where’s my phone?

Grandpa? Why are you allowed to throw ketchup on the wall?

If I step on one more of those damned things I’m going to ban Legos! Put those away. Drop that! Pick that up. Put those away! Did I say you could-

Did you poop your diaper, grandpa?

Stop locking your little sister outside! And pull up your pants. Phillip you’re a little terrorist! Phillip stop stealing Randall’s toy truck! And I thought Putin and Netanyahu were hard to negotiate with.

Grandpa you smell old. Did you lose your phone?

Give me those “classified” documents! Stop coloring them! Are those my favorite black sharpies? I told you to stay out of there!

Grandpa, do we have bone spurs like you? And why did Nana Melania say you can have as many girlfriends as you want?

Little Angie threw my Super Bowl ring where?

I peed on your rug. The one with the eagle on it. I’m sorry, grandpa. And..and..and Little Donnie? He flushed your phone down the toilet.

Perhaps one day

Perhaps one day Trump will be the world’s greatest grandpa. Perhaps one day he will invite his good friend Elon over and Elon can bring his 257 grandchildren over with him for “playtime”. I read on X that Musk dotes on his 257 grandchildren.

I dote on mine. They are the best. Not like Mr. Trump’s.