It's a normal school day filled with the usual rush to get breakfasted, sandwiched and out of the door by 7.30. This morning it is different though - an air of excitement and celebration riffles across the cereal packets, the TV is on and Dad is leaning forward soaking up Obama’s oratory. The children gravitate over there, forgetful of the need for hair-brushing and shoes. The girls vaguely grasp the idea of someone having won something important, but aren’t quite sure what and why.
They watch attentively as Obama is joined on stage by his vice-president and both their wives.
“Who won?” Middle Daughter asks.
“Barack Obama,” we say.
“But who won?” she repeats, perhaps thinking that this is the name of the game.
“The black guy,” I explain, with only two guys to be seen on the podium.
“ Oh, the brown guy,” she corrects me, happy to get her facts straight and be able to focus on the right guy as the winner.
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