Sasha and Malia Obama raced down a White House corridor, skidding to a halt when they saw Michelle exiting her bedroom.
"Mom!" they cried out, panting for breath. "Where's Dad?!"
"Well, I think he's in France today with President Sarkozy. Why? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Sasha said. Then, turning to Malia, she said: "Okay, you start."
Malia clasped her hands. "Our Father, who art in Paris, hallowed be thy name..."
Instant "Acts"ess
