Dwain Northey (Gen X)

King Donald and the International Kitty Table

In the grand tradition of temperamental monarchs, Wannabe King Donald John Trump once again relocated the United States—not geographically, but diplomatically—to the kids’ table. You know, the one with plastic cups, chicken nuggets, and everyone arguing about whose turn it is with the iPad. This time, it was because His Majesty threw a fit about some invented “white genocide” crisis in South Africa, a conspiracy so flimsy it couldn’t even support its own paranoia.

While the world’s actual leaders were gathering at the G20—grown-ups discussing grown-up things like global economies and climate disasters—Trump opted out, citing concerns that were about as substantive as a Trump University diploma. In doing so, he proudly declared that America, under his divine rule, would no longer sit with the adults. No sir. America would be right where he feels most comfortable: sulking at the kitty table, away from the responsibilities, the expectations, and—most importantly—people who might actually expect him to read a briefing longer than a tweet.

But here’s the most astonishing part: the other countries at the G20 were… relieved. Practically jubilant. It was as if the entire global community collectively exhaled and said, “Thank God he’s not coming.” The mood was identical to a family Thanksgiving where everyone discovers that their racist uncle—who usually arrives drunk, loud, and ready to explain why the pilgrims invented Wi-Fi—decided to stay home this year. Plates clink, glasses raise, and the holiday meal suddenly tastes just a little better when no one is yelling about replacement theory over the mashed potatoes.

Without Trump stomping around, insisting that everyone admire his imaginary trade deals and his totally real phone calls with leaders who politely pretend not to know him, the G20 reportedly ran smoother than it had in years. Leaders discussed policy instead of fending off monologues about crowd sizes. They negotiated agreements instead of deciphering half-coherent rants about windmills causing cancer. They solved problems without having to hide the crayons.

And meanwhile, Trump was somewhere else—likely tweeting in ALL CAPS—congratulating himself for “STANDING UP TO THE GLOBALISTS,” which in his mind means “not being invited to any group project where facts matter.”

In the end, the only person who thought America belonged at the adult table was Trump himself. Everyone else was perfectly content with the U.S. sitting this one out, coloring quietly, and not knocking over the gravy boat in a fit of royal indignation.

Because here’s the truth: when the king acts like a toddler, the nation ends up eating lunch with the toddlers. And the adults? They just enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.