The establishment is now with Trump.

They didn’t want him. They fought against him. Privately, they still resent him. But in the early minutes of the evening, as the party’s senior leadership executed a final quashing of lingering anti-Trump efforts on the convention floor, they presided over Mr. Trump’s installation as the duly chosen Republican Party presidential nominee. They did it because the rules obligated them to, but also because it was politically necessary. If Trump loses the White House, it is imperative to the party’s establishment that he do so convincingly, undeniably, without sabotage, so that they cannot be blamed for the defeat.

Trump really is a different candidate.

Ten minutes of Paul D. Ryan made that clear. In many respects, Mr. Ryan, the House speaker, delivered the classic speech of a major party nominee: papering over the nastiness of the primary, providing a positive vision of governing, and giving the party’s disparate factions a narrative they could all get behind. It was not the most original or soaring speech in convention history. But it was utterly different from virtually any Trump speech, or from most of the speeches by Mr. Trump’s surrogates on the convention stage so far. Mr. Ryan’s speech was a reminder of how unconventional Mr. Trump is — the quality that got him this far, but may now limit him.

The kids are all right.

For all the controversy unfolding over the borrowed lines in Melania Trump’s remarks on Monday, two of Mr. Trump’s children gave the most effective and heartfelt speeches on Tuesday. Tiffany Trump, his 22-year-old daughter with his second wife, sprinkled her speech with anecdotes about him making notes on her report cards and being the first to call her after the death of a good friend — the kind of softening material unexpectedly missing from his wife’s speech. Donald Trump Jr., an executive at the family business, gave a longer biographical tale of his father, told with sincerity and affection, dusted with a sprinkle of a Trumpian economic policy. (But just a sprinkle.)

Christie has a message for Trump.

Gov. Chris Christie of New Jersey is famously competitive, so it was no surprise that he was let down when Mr. Trump passed him over for the ticket. But Mr. Christie’s speech seemed designed to make the nominee wonder if he had made a mistake. In contrast to the mild-mannered Gov. Mike Pence of Indiana, Mr. Christie, a former federal prosecutor, laid out a case against Hillary Clinton as though he were in a courtroom. It was hard not to remember that Mr. Trump once said he wanted an “attack dog” for his running mate, something that Mr. Pence, who has previously denounced negative campaigning, has not yet proved skilled at. Mr. Christie, in what may be the last major speech of his political career, reminded the hall — and maybe the nominee — that it is what he does best.