In the world of tech billionaires, nothing is ever done by accident. Not the tweets, not the stock drops, not even the sudden appearances of their children in the most powerful rooms on Earth. So when X AE A-XII, the four-year-old son of Elon Musk and singer Grimes, began appearing in political spaces like the Oval Office and high-profile conservative events like CPAC, the world was left asking one question: Is this merely a father sharing moments with his child — or is Elon Musk grooming a successor, a “political crown prince” to inherit not a business empire, but a cultural and ideological legacy?
This isn’t the first time Musk has blurred the lines between personal life and public spectacle. But X AE A-XII is no ordinary child, and these are not ordinary photo ops. They are curated, highly visible moments, placed squarely in the crosshairs of national attention.
When a toddler appears repeatedly in rooms of such significance — rooms where presidents govern and policies are shaped — it stops being about parenting. It starts becoming a message.
To understand the implication, one must consider the Musk persona: an iconoclast who thrives on attention, disruption, and narrative control. Musk’s presence in politics has been steadily increasing since he aligned himself with government advisors and became enmeshed in debates over free speech, AI regulation, and federal spending.
His purchase of Twitter, rebranded as X, was more than a business move — it was a declaration of ideological war. And now, amid this political theater, his own child is appearing center stage.
For Grimes, X AE A-XII’s mother and Musk’s former partner, the implications are troubling. She has publicly begged for their children to be kept away from these environments, citing concerns for their privacy, safety, and autonomy.
In March, she took to the very platform Musk owns — X — to plead for help: “I have tried begging the public and my kids’ dad to keep them offline, and I’ve tried legal recourse.” Her voice is filled with anguish, as if she’s watching a machine she once trusted with her future now consuming it.
In that same post, Grimes confessed her fear that her son was becoming a public figure without consent. “Fame is something you should choose,” she told Time in an earlier interview, “and I would really like people to stop posting images of my kid everywhere.”
But Musk, ever the master of spectacle, appears to disagree — or at least, to prioritize the message over the medium. And what is that message?
To many observers, the presence of X AE A-XII in places like the White House suggests a carefully orchestrated narrative. Musk, who has long cast himself as a world-changing figure — the savior of humanity via Mars, the liberator of speech through X, the breaker of bureaucratic systems with AI — now seems to be building a new storyline: legacy. And not just the kind left in buildings or patents, but in bloodlines.
It’s a pattern not uncommon in history. Dynastic ambition isn’t new — kings and CEOs alike have tried to shape their children into successors. But in the Musk version of this tale, the tools aren’t swords or crowns; they’re memes, media, and moments staged for virality. X AE A-XII, dressed in sleek clothes, nestled into the lap of power, becomes more than a child.
He becomes a symbol — a prototype for Musk’s vision of the future: polished, precocious, and ever-present in the public consciousness.
And while some see it as harmless — a powerful man sharing his life — others, including Grimes, interpret it as a form of weaponized parenthood. Her concern is not just about photos or headlines, but about long-term identity. What happens when a child’s earliest memories are forged not in playgrounds or parks, but in the gilded hallways of institutions whose agendas are far bigger than childhood itself?
In private messages, Grimes has tried to escalate concerns, even during medical emergencies. Her public cry — “Plz respond about our child's medical crisis” — paints a picture of a mother desperate to protect, not just from politics, but from apathy. She asked Elon to appoint someone, anyone, to speak with her if he wouldn’t.
That moment, more than any appearance at CPAC or any Oval Office photo, reveals the emotional fracture beneath the political pageantry.
Their legal battle, too, tells a story. After the birth of their third child, Techno, Grimes filed for parental rights in California. Musk responded with a counter-suit in Texas, his business base and arguably more favorable legal terrain. While the case has since been settled, the fallout left Grimes on the brink of financial collapse.
She claimed the ordeal nearly bankrupted her and stalled her creative output. This, again, reflects the imbalance of power — between the world's richest man and a mother fighting to keep her children off the political chessboard.
So why would Musk do this? Why place X AE A-XII into the center of political imagery?
Because legacy matters to Elon Musk. He is not content with revolutionizing industries.
He wants to reshape civilization — and that includes how power is handed down. Whether it’s running a company or ruling public discourse, Musk understands that symbols matter. In his world, every tweet, every camera angle, every child’s appearance in the Oval Office is a move on a much larger board.
But in choosing this path, Musk risks transforming his son into a product — a living brand extension of his ideology. And that, according to critics, crosses a line. It’s one thing to lead. It’s another to script a child’s life around your ambitions.
Musk may believe he is securing a future, but to Grimes, and to many watching, it looks like he’s stealing a childhood.
In the end, this story is not about politics, money, or technology. It’s about consent. The consent of a child who cannot speak for himself. The consent of a mother begging for boundaries.
And the refusal of a father who seems determined to draft his son into a vision far bigger than family.
As X AE A-XII continues to appear alongside the world’s most powerful figures, we are left with a haunting question: Is this just a boy visiting dad at work — or the unveiling of a political heir in the making?
And if it’s the latter, then Musk is no longer just building empires.
He’s building dynasties.