When we were young, our parents only let us watch one hour of TV a day. We complained and complained. But compared to the technological limits the Obamas put on their daughters, we were living in a crazy futureworld.
In my household, you know, we try to establish a set of guidelines and rules that make sense - no computers, phones, television during the week.
No computers, phones, or television during the week? Those rules do not "make sense" unless you are training your daughters to be historical re-enactors at Colonial Williamsburg. What do Sasha and Malia do all day? Play Chutes 'N Ladders and have contests to see who can hold their breath longest?
Seriously, this has to be breaking some kind of child abuse law or something. It's like those kids who are kidnapped as teens then placed in a basement until they're freed 20 years later, when they wander outside, blinking in the brilliant sun. But instead of joy, they have this frightened, puzzled look on their face. And you realize that this person missed the whole digital revolution; they'll have to learn an entire generation's worth of technology if they hope to ever live a normal life. And suddenly their freedom seems more like a transfer to another prison—one whose walls are not fashioned of stone and cement, but of bits and silicon, streaming with impenetrable data. And then they go move to the woods and befriend wildlife and talk to them about the scary machines they saw in the real world.
This is going to be Malia and Sasha! Someone needs to break into the White House and smuggle these girls a smart-phone, stat. (Malia and Sasha, if it's a Saturday and you happen to be reading this, email us. We can help. You do know what email is, right?)