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    When we got back to the White House on Sunday night, another surprise was awaiting us. Earlier that morning, Honeywell had told me that many actors and musicians had visited the White House and performed there. All the president has to do is ask, he said, and celebrities are usually thrilled to be invited.
    Honeywell mentioned that the Juilliard String Quartet happened to be in Washington that weekend, and maybe they would perform for me and my friends. I asked him if anyone else was in town. He looked into it and said he could get either the New York Harp Ensemble or a Suzuki violin group.
    â€œDo you think you can get Aerosmith?” I requested.
    â€œI’m not familiar with him, sir.”
    â€œIt’s a quintet,” I informed him. “Very classical. They’ve been performing together for thirty years. Really excellent.”
    No way I was going to tell Honeywell that Aerosmith was the loudest, raunchiest, and most outrageous rock-and-roll band in history.
    But Honeywell got on the phone, and when we returned from Camp David, Aerosmith’s lead singer, Steven Tyler, was in the Blue Room, drinking champagne out of one of Thomas Jefferson’s crystal goblets!
    Wow! I got to meet the guys in the band, and they even asked for my autograph.
    We gathered my classmates in the State Dining Room, and Aerosmith put on a show that just knocked our socks off. My ears were ringing, the walls were shaking, and I was seriously afraid that the giant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling were going to come crashing down on everybody. If Honeywell hadn’t been hard of hearing, I think he would have run screaming out of the place.
    For their encore, Steven Tyler and Joe Perry hauled me up onto the stage to sing “Walk This Way” with them. It was the greatest moment of my life.
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    I felt sad when all the kids said their goodbyes and piled into limos to go to the airport and fly back to Wisconsin. The White House seemed so quiet suddenly. I almost wished I could go with them.
    Honeywell came over to me when the last limo pulled away. He looked exhausted. Wordlessly, he handed me the Washington Post.

    â€œIt looks like you’re doing a great job, sir,” Honeywell said. “In all my years at the White House, I have never seen such a high approval rating.”
    â€œBut I haven’t done anything yet!” I complained.
    â€œYou apparently do nothing rather well,” Honeywell said. Then he handed me a piece of paper. It was a bill — for ten thousand dollars.
    â€œWhat’s this for?” I asked.
    â€œFood, helicopters, limousines, taxis, telephone calls …”
    â€œYou mean the president has to pay for all that?” I assumed that the president didn’t have to pay for anything.
    â€œPersonal expenses are paid for by the president, sir.”
    â€œPay it,” I sighed.
    Honeywell then handed me another piece of paper. It was a separate bill for three thousand dollars.
    â€œThe First Lady bought some clothes this weekend,” he said.
    It cost a fortune to be president, I realized. But thinking it over, it was worth it. I had just enjoyed the greatest weekend of my life. Being president of the United States was fun !

After my friends left the White House on Sunday night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about all the fun we had. Usually when I can’t sleep, I pace. I started walking up and down the long hall that runs the length of the second floor.
    As I passed the Lincoln Bedroom, I heard a noise. It sounded like papers rustling. I stopped in my tracks to listen. Yes, it was definitely coming from the Lincoln Bedroom. Somebody was in there!
    Lincoln! It had to be the ghost of Abraham Lincoln! Everybody was asleep. Lincoln’s ghost supposedly lived in the Lincoln Bedroom and came out from time to time. I was frightened, but I wanted to see him for myself.
    Slowly, I turned the doorknob. Hesitantly, I opened the door a crack