At the polls '08

Perched on her dad's shoulders, the heels of her pink cowboy boots bounced against his chest as she looked up and down the long line. Her stream of questions never stopped as we waited outside for an hour. Walking in the doors at the rec center polling center she asked another one, "Daddy, is that where the girls vote?" I turned, along with others nearby in line, and looked to see where she was pointing: the women's bathroom. We all suppressed chuckles, not wanting to discourage her interest in the election.
"No, honey, the girls get to vote in the same place as the boys."
"Why, Daddy?"
"Well," he explained, "because everyone has an equal right to vote so we all get to go to the same place."
Forehead scrunched in concentration she said, "That's good because I'm a girl and I want to vote. But, Daddy?" She paused as at least ten people looked up at her dark curls, waiting to hear her next question. "I don't know who I am going to pick."
"That's ok." He smiled, "You have a few years to decide."
"Good," Sighing she wrapped her chubby arms around him and rested her chin on his head, "because I have a lot of thinking to do."