I learnt my politics
on my father's knee:
"What's communism, Daddy?"
"No bosses."
I didn't understand.
"The classless society, son."
Now class was something a 10 year old knew about.
"I'm a communist, Dad."
My father smiled.
The revolution began promptly at 8:30 Monday morning.
My mother did not approve.
My father approved even less.
My parents were never House Marxists. 
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