My wife and I, like many parents, felt we needed to say something to our children the next morning. But what do you say to a 5-year-old and a 2-year-old who only knew Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump as television people, an orange man and a yellow woman yelling at each other? We sat William down and explained that he needed to be good to people, that he needed to be kind, and patient, and gentle. Treat everyone the way you would like to be treated. What else could we say? “It’s your job to be nice,” we told him, faces tired and sunken and beaten. “Can you be nice? Do you promise?” William popped the rest of a banana in his mouth, mumbled “sure!” and grabbed his book bag. Then we watched him bound into his school, my blond beautiful son with his nice clothes and devil-may-care attitude, happy, unaware, confident — bounding like the world was owed to him. I looked at my wife. We were both shivering.