Sweetheart, come sit with Auntie for a minute, because it’s been a week and a half inside a single week, and before we tuck ourselves into bed like responsible adults who are trying not to develop a stress‑induced eye twitch, we need to take a breath and talk about what happened today. And I promise you, no wine — not tonight — because if Auntie starts associating alcohol with the daily constitutional demolition derby we’re living through, she’ll be checking herself into detox by Easter. So it’s tea tonight. Chamomile. Maybe lavender. Something that reminds us we are human beings and not just witnesses to a slow‑motion car crash conducted by people who think the Constitution is a suggestion.
Because today, sweetheart… today the Supreme Court actually did something that made Auntie sit back, blink twice, and whisper, “Well would you look at that.” A 6–3 ruling. Against him. Against his little fantasy that he can slap tariffs on the entire planet because he woke up feeling wronged by the universe. And Auntie had to put her hand on her chest like she’d just seen a baby deer take its first steps. Not joy — she’s too seasoned for joy — but relief. Honest‑to‑God relief.
And let me tell you, the liberal justices — Sotomayor, Kagan, Jackson — Auntie wants to knit them each a blanket and name a kitten after every one of them. Ruth Bader Ginsburg the cat is about to get a whole litter of fur‑friends: Ketanji Brown Jackson the tabby, Sonia the tortie, Elena the long‑haired diva who knocks pens off the table on purpose. Those women have been holding the line like the last three people in a tug‑of‑war team whose teammates wandered off to check their phones. They show up every damn time. They read the assignment. They understand the stakes. They are the reason Auntie still believes in the concept of public service.
Now, the conservatives who joined them — Roberts, Gorsuch, Barrett — Auntie is giving them a polite little pat on the head tonight. Just a light tap. A “good job, sweetie, see how it feels to do the right thing?” They get a gold star, but it’s the kind of gold star you give a grown man who finally learned how to use his turn signal. Auntie appreciates the effort, truly, but she is also looking them dead in the eye and saying, “Don’t make this a one‑time thing. You can do this more often. I believe in you. Sort of.”
And then there are the other three. Thomas. Alito. Kavanaugh. Lord give Auntie strength. These men dissented like they were auditioning for the role of “Most Loyal Footstool.” Auntie read their dissent and had to close her eyes, because the level of enabling was so intense she could feel her blood pressure trying to climb out of her body. She wanted to sit them down like misbehaving nephews and say, “Boys. Enough. You cannot keep telling this man he’s allowed to do whatever he wants. You are not his emotional support justices. You are supposed to interpret the law, not tuck him in at night and tell him he’s special.” Auntie is not mad. She is disappointed. Which is worse.
And then — oh, sweetheart — the press conference. Auntie watched that man come out looking like someone had just told him the Supreme Court took away his favorite toy, and she had to grip her mug with both hands. The sweating. The ranting. The accusations of disloyalty. The insistence that he still had “other authorities” he could use, like a child insisting there’s another cookie jar somewhere in the house if he just looks hard enough. Auntie had to pause the livestream because she genuinely needed to breathe. There is something uniquely exhausting about watching a grown man refuse to accept the word “no,” especially when the word “no” is coming from the highest court in the land.
But here’s the thing, sweetheart. Tonight, as we settle in, as we let the day slide off our shoulders like a too‑heavy coat, Auntie wants you to hold onto this: the system worked today. Not perfectly. Not consistently. Not in all the ways we need it to. But today, the Court remembered its job. Today, the Constitution got a little reinforcement. Today, the word “no” meant something.
And that is a good way to end a week like this.
So Auntie is going to bed with her tea, her cat, and the faintest glimmer of hope that maybe — just maybe — the people in charge of safeguarding democracy might occasionally remember that’s what they’re supposed to be doing. And for tonight, just tonight, Auntie will call them SCOTUS again. They earned it.
Now go wash your face, brush your teeth, and get under the covers. Auntie’s proud of you for making it through another day in this circus. Rest. Tomorrow will bring its own nonsense, but tonight we breathe.
And tomorrow morning, if you want, Auntie will help you name the rest of the kittens.
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