Kids in the White House

The film is grainy, the image iconic. Instead of balloons and birthday cake in the White House, John F. Kennedy Jr. marked his third birthday with a brief salute to his father’s casket; then rubbed his eyes, a tired little boy in need of his afternoon nap.

As I recently read of Malia Obama’s impending high school graduation and her acceptance into Harvard, my thoughts wandered back to my early memories of the young residents of the White House, beginning with the Kennedy children. I was enchanted by toddler John-John, peeking out from under his father’s desk, his older sister Caroline and her pony Macaroni, and the handsome president known to sneak bubble gum to his children when the First Lady wasn’t looking. Their stay at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was tinged with tragedy, as their baby brother Patrick Bouvier Kennedy died shortly after birth in August 1963, and John’s poignant salute following his father’s assassination marked the end of their residency within its walls.

Caroline wasn’t the first presidential child to ride a pony on the grounds of the White House, but she stopped short of the antics of Teddy Roosevelt’s six children. Historian Bonnie Angelo suggests that “Roosevelt’s sons were fantastic scoundrels,” full of pranks and tricks. To comfort a sick brother, Quentin coaxed Algonquin, his pony, into the White House elevator and down the hall to Archie’s bedroom. Not sure what the President thought about that particular escapade, but he did say, “I don’t think that any family has ever enjoyed the White House more than we have.”

The Johnson and Nixon daughters were older than Caroline and John when their fathers entered the oval office, so the eyes of the American people turned to the details of White House weddings, eager to see the beautiful brides on the arms of their famous fathers. But children returned to its halls when the Carters entered the White House with ten-year-old Amy. Later, the twelve-year-old Chelsea Clinton, code name “Energy,” came to Washington, and then George and Laura Bush brought us a set of college-bound “first twins,” Jenna and Barbara Bush. And now, Malia and Sasha Obama, ten and seven on move-in day, are growing into beautiful young women before our eyes.

As a child, I was enchanted by these special children. How fun to be a First Kid, with a Secret Service code name, a presidential tree house, and an Easter egg roll on your lawn. It wasn’t until I was a mother in my own mini-fishbowl of a pastor’s family that I gave much thought to the parenting challenges faced by POTUS and FLOTUS, or by other families living in the public eye. No way would I want to live through an adolescent meltdown in the Rose Garden.

As Barack and Michelle Obama prepared to enter the White House more than seven years ago. Malia and Sasha were still young children. How could they provide stability for their daughters? How to maintain some level of privacy? Could the girls have a Facebook page? How could they protect the innocence of their childhood? Apparently they got some advice from former First Parents, and they get a helping hand with day-to-day companionship from grandmother Marian Robinson, who has lived with the family since inauguration day.

I’m convinced that parents in Ashland Ohio and in Washington, D.C. share similar hopes and dreams for our kids – and grandkids. Here’s what the father who happened to be president wrote to his children in 2009: “These are the things I want for you – to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and thrive that you girls have. That’s why I’ve taken our family on this great adventure.”

Learning, dreaming and thriving: a hope for Caroline, Amy, Chelsea, Jenna, Barbara, Malia and Sasha; for the lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful Elizabeth Holiday; and for children near and far, no matter the color of their house.