Who says politics is an all-boys' club?

Around The Hamilton Zone, clear differences are emerging in the levels of political passion between seven-year-old Zoë and eleven-year-old Zach. And the way things are shaping up, we may have another Nancy Pelosi on our hands, with her brother content to work in the background as a campaign strategist.

Zach likes to identify himself in ultra-conservative Redding as an Obama supporter. We live in a blue state but in an extremely red county where it's great fun to rankle the masses. Zach recognizes that, so it didn’t surprise me when he asked for Obama stickers and buttons. He also expressed a desire for a shirt, but I declined his request, as fearful of his school's mega-restrictive dress code as the redneck bullies who wouldn’t take kindly to that sort of attire.

But it's easy to be a sloganeer and easier to don buttons and the like around election time. Neither demonstrates a true interest in politics. Try discussing the issues with Zach, and his eyes glaze over before he quickly changes the subject. He'll express opinions, but he typically just parrots back what he's heard from me. When it comes to conviction, Zoë’s clearly got Zach beat.

Yes, I said Zoë. Zach asks my and Kelly's opinion, while Zoë gives us hers. Zach asks if it's OK to do something, while Zoë just does it. And Zach tries hard to go with the flow, while Zoë’s not afraid--and even seems to relish--blazing her own trail. She's smart, determined, and quite comfortable in the role of contrarian--quite like her new-found hero, Hillary Clinton.

You may recall that during the Democratic National Convention, Zoë said point blank that the former first lady ought to be president. I figured she was merely intrigued seeing a woman within reach of the White House and that her interest would die down once Hillary was out of the picture. But that hasn't been the case.

First, Zoë watched bits and pieces of the Republican National Convention, including a decent chunk of Sarah Palin's speech. I thought the shots of her oh-too-cute family would sway Zoë over to the dark side, but I underestimated my daughter. Listening to her speak, Zoë said unapologetically, "I don't like this lady.”

Then, after learning Palin was John McCain's running mate, Zoë insisted we agree not to say "his" name again in our home. And she's called me on it every time I've slipped. She's even left me written reminders, one of which is sitting on my desk right now.

And the trend continued last week, when the vice presidential debates aired. On her own, Zoë sat down next to me, asking questions but mostly just watching, and booing at appropriate times against Palin. She didn't make it all the way through, but I was impressed that she even wanted to watch.

Contrast this to Friday night, when the senate was set to vote on the bailout bill and Zach was hanging out with Ben, his thirteen-year-old friend from down the street. As the vote approached, I suggested they ought to come out and watch. Zach's reply? "Maybe in a few minutes, Dad," he said. "We're checking out Ben's new Yu-Gi-Oh cards."

So much for priorities--and on Zach's part, any real interest in our political process. At this point, it's pretty clear upon which kid I should focus my "You, too, can be president" speeches. Although in light of recent events, I'm not sure if I even want to be making them. What a sad state of affairs when a parent has to second-guess even that dream, eh?