The First 18 Months
Article excerpt
An Atlantic writer describes a cabinet meeting with his son, who turned 18 months old on the same day the current administration reached its 18-month mark. The piece uses this coincidence as a framework to reflect on parenthood, governance, and the passage of time during a specific political moment. By drawing parallels between raising a toddler and running a government, the author explores themes of chaos, learning, responsibility, and what it means to lead during uncertainty. The intimate domestic lens offers an unconventional perspective on assessing an administration's early tenure.
Sir! I love you! Thank you for including me in this meeting to talk about all the wonderful things you’ve accomplished since January 2025. What a big, beautiful man you are. The greatest fellow in the whole world! You’re so alert. And you can walk! Wow!
When grown men see you, they weep, and they are right to do so. Look at those toes. Your hair looks great; it is the right amount. If you were playing golf and you wanted to just put the ball in the hole with your hand, I don’t think any of us would stop you.
And that face! That face should be on Mount Rushmore! Or the Department of Labor, at the very least.
I love how you like to watch a parade and clap. Maybe we can do that for your birthday! Please give me back my phone; I think you are calling Europe, and that will not make anything better.
I love what a priority gas emissions are for you, and how you smile afterward.
I like how when you use a pen, you make a big squiggle. I also like how sometimes you make up a word and then we all use it, because we want you to know how smart we think you are. I loved when you correctly pointed out a squirrel. I said that you were a genius earlier; you responded by throwing some ketchup on the floor. And I was honored just to be in your presence when that happened.
Hey, who turned on the TV? Let’s turn that off.
Let’s put on that playlist you like instead! I love how much you love Andrew Lloyd Webber! And how, when you hear “Y.M.C.A.,” you do a movement that you consider to be a form of dance. Please don’t touch that button. That button will mess a lot of things up.
Please stop typing gibberish. I am trying to finish this column. I love you very much, but anytime you write something, it creates work for me.
[Read: Does Donald Trump know men are also allowed to leave his Cabinet?]
Hey. Look at this nice world. Do you see how nice it is? Hamburgers exist (I know you are fond of those) and hats (you love a hat), but there are so many wonderful things you have never seen. Things I want to show you. Things I want you to care about, and not break. I don’t know how to make you love the parts of the world that I love, but, oh, I wish I could.
And by the way, your fingers are perfect. Just the right size for a man your age.
This article appears in the July 2026 print edition.