(Before she bought it, she and Tripp were living at home in Wasilla, an hour and a half away.) Though her mother's earnings have been widely reported at million since she stepped down as governor last July, largely due to her book, Going Rogue, and her TV deals, it's Bristol who has picked out and paid for everything: the big leather couches, the flat-screen TVs, Tripp's toddler-size bed (though he sleeps with his mother), and the Subaru wagon in the garage.
I swaddled Tripp for like the first eight months." In a community-college speech class she took as part of the business degree she's chipping away at, she did a Power Point presentation titled "How to Swaddle a Baby." Despite the ways her life differs from those of her classmates, Bristol is hardly a world-weary soul.
"She's not worried that Tripp himself might one day read her words and take them the wrong way.
"He knows that I love him," she says, shaking her head.
It's a Saturday afternoon in Anchorage, and the only sign of spring is the gentle drip of melting snowdrifts.
Parked under leafless trees behind Bristol Palin's three-story gray townhouse is a cluster of giant SUVs and pickup trucks.