The daughter I mentioned having in another post, who was, in that one–for narrative purposes–almost eleven, is, as it turns out, actually eleven now and has started acting more–yawn–socially aware. The other day she asked me if there is a difference between Democrats and Republicans. I have no idea where this came from, unless it’s that darn Montessori again. At home, we make a point never to discuss politics, calories, or Jon Snow’s parentage, but children develop curiosities all the same. You are likely not eleven, and I don’t want to be patronizing, so here’s an abridgment of what I told her:

Federalists, Abraham Lincoln, some of my best friends, blood on the steps of the U.S. Capitol, Religion, things that frighten people.

I voted, you know, but I did not discuss it. I don’t think it’s fair to assume that because I’m an airhead who falls down a lot that I’ve completely checked out.

Hey, can I get sentimental for a moment? Because I’m just remembering another time my daughter asked me about the differences between people. We were living in Vermont, so she couldn’t have been two yet, and she and her little friend [boy] were playing in the river. When his mother was changing him out of his wet swimsuit, my daughter observed that [N.] “has a different bottom”.  I was sure I was out of earshot of my grandmother in Virginia, so I decided it would be all right to be kind of Vermonty and open, and not just change the subject and offer her a maple candy. “Yes he does,” I said. Not an easy conversation, to be sure, but, I mean–now that I have an eleven year-old, I’m feeling pretty smug that I got it out of the way when I did!