Toddlers For Obama

For some of us, democracy can't wait.

Today, my daughter participated in history. We made the trip together to Barack Obama's regional field office in Nashua, NH.

I have read bedtime stories to her -- Goodnight Moon and The Runaway Bunny (ever a joy all around). I have read Walt Whitman (cooing in her cradle endlessly rocking) and Georg Trakl (ok, some definite nose crinkling there). And I have always made a point to read something from the New York Times to her at breakfast. She may not grasp international monetary policy (which I guess is alright, apparently those in charge don't understand it either), but I'll wager she can identify more politicians than any dithering undecided. She certainly knows who Hillary is. For a week, she marched around house repeating, "President TA . . . Why not?"

She giggled every time she tried to pronounce 'Huckabee'. She is the same two-year-old girl who screamed "Obama!" every time we saw a video of Kennedy at a podium when we visited the JFK Museum earlier in the year. Who knows? She may go all John Birch on me when she's a rebellious teen. But today, as a family, this is all about her future.

Progressive-palooza!

One could argue the "U-SAVE" sign fits in just fine with the others.

I didn't snap any pictures inside the office, but the people were all very nice and indulged the TA when she repeatedly demanded, "But, where's Obama?" The nice volunteer man explained that the good Senator was in Nashville, Tennessee for his debate that evening. The TA looked up at me and asked, "Can we go to Nashville?"

I admit, I was tempted.

We scored a lawn sign and some sundry swag. Then we were back on the road to strike a blow for democracy in our corner of the world.

Direct democracy.

Grabbing the sign from the trunk, the TA takes matters into her own hands.

She wasn't exactly sure where to plant the sign.
She wandered around the yard asking, "Where does this go?"

That's one small yard sign for a TA,
one giant leap for toddlerkind.

Thomas Jefferson would be pleased.
Afterward, we celebrated with peanut butter and jelly,
then took crayons to Maureen Dowd's latest column.