I have two daughters, the Big One and the Little One. This is a story about the Little One. It's a story about the stories we tell each other and how they matter more than the facts or the truth. This is a story about the way the story becomes the truth. It's a story about why it matters that a candidate hasn't seen a grocery scanner, trips down the stairs, flip-flops or lies. It isn't rational, or fair. It isn't predictable, and it certainly can't be explained. There are just some stories that contain more of the truth than the facts ever could, even when they shouldn't. Even when they make no sense.
To understand the story, you need to know two things. The Little One started walking at nine months, and she was very small for her age.
