In order to justify an excursion from the house, I told Sacha all about voting and that it would be fun. He really bought into it. He was so excited to go voting this morning.
When we arrived at the voter's station to register he asked the lady if he could have a paper so he could vote. She had to inform him that he couldn't vote. Just so we're clear, the impression I gave him is that he would be helping me vote, not voting himself. But he wanted to go one step further. Oh, he was mightily ticked when he was told he couldn't.
He did his trademark "I'm unhappy with the world" stance: shoulders raised, big frown, furled eyebrows, hands under his armpits closed in fists and stomped off to the voting booth. "I don't like that the lady told me I couldn't vote. I really want to vote." I told him he only had to wait 14 more years and then he could vote. He seemed happy to help me mark my X's, a difficult task given his inability to stay in the lines which could have spoiled my ballot. But it worked just fine. He even got to put the little papers into the ballot box.
On the way out, he said, "I thought you said this was going to be fun. It was boring instead." Then he talked all day about how he wasn't allowed to vote.
My wife's friend came up with a great idea. For the kids that come to vote with their parents, have colorful little ballots with felt pens and their own voting station. They could put it into a colored box with some colorful decorations on it. It'd get them excited about the process.