What will they call her husband? "First gentleman?"

Kelly's in Riverside this week, so I've been alone and without much hope of seeing the Democratic National Convention. But last night, I parked Zienna in front of a Barney DVD, determined to watch Hillary's speech. And then naturally, within seconds, Zoë wandered into the living room.

It was obvious she was still shaken after being evacuated earlier in the day by a large wildfire next to her school. Oh, well, I thought, my daughter's needs are more important than this. If she needs TLC, I'll skip the speech, knowing full well I'd not make the time watch it later even if I recorded it.

Zoë sat down next to me just as Chelsea took the podium. I waited to hear her ask if I could turn on Disney Channel. But instead, she became quiet.

"Is that Hillary?" Zoë asked.

"No, that's Chelsea," I said, explaining who she was and that like her mom, she was very intelligent. This segued to a few more questions about Bill Clinton and whether a woman could be president. Zoë even asked if she could be president. Of course I said yes.

By the time Hillary began speaking, Zoë was again quiet. And then she sat there, fully engaged, even shushing Zienna when she wandered into the room. I was caught completely off guard.

When the speech ended, Zoë asked why Hillary wasn't going to be president. I explained that she'd lost the primary and what that meant. But she wasn’t convinced.

"She should be president," Zoë said, matter-of-factly. And then, noticing I hadn't turned on the DVR, she added, "I wish you had taped Hillary's speech, because I'd watch it over and over."

I don't know if I could have been more surprised. Even the Olympics and the gymnastics team's high-flying heroics hadn't done much to hold Zoë’s interest. Plus, she typically gets bored quickly with anything too plodding or serious.

I apologized for not recording the speech, then tried to make amends by discussing the electoral processes and by talking with Zoë, as objectively as I could (which was tough), about Obama and McCain (the latter of whom's ads she was booing on her own, based on their content). Still confounding me, she showed genuine interest, asking so many questions that eventually I had to tell her it was bedtime.

But she wasn't through. Bringing up another subject she's been grappling with for some time, she threw one last zinger at me.

"You know what, Daddy?” she asked. "If I knew for sure that God was real, I'd pray to him and ask him to make Barack Obama president."

There, she'd done it—she'd completely floored me and left me speechless. I don't know if Zoë lost some innocence witnessing a 130-acre fire burn right up to her school's playground or what. But I do know my little girl grew up a bit, for whatever reason, right there before my eyes.

I'm just glad she didn't say she'd pray for a McCain victory. Agnostic though I may be, I can encourage her to explore religion on her own terms. I can even tell her she's free to try meat if she ever compelled to do so. But to try and sugar coat a conversation about that guy? No way.

So, president some day? At this rate, who knows? It's either that or American Idol. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. But after last night, I know more than ever that I'll be proud of Zoë no matter what.