Mr. President was playing “house” with his friends today and he came walking down the hall to say “goodbye” to his “daughter”. From this I deduced that he was the father going off to work for the day. I noticed he had a square paper something in his hand that he had made and it looked to me like a briefcase. Having grown up with a father who took a briefcase to work, I naturally assumed this to be what it was. Impressed with his artwork I said, “Is that your briefcase?” He said, “No, what’s a briefcase? This is my computer.” Ah. Yes. Of course. Excuse me while I take my old self and go hang out with Ward Cleaver.