There's no reason for my 5-year-old to understand why I dragged her out of bed before dawn so that we could watch the inauguration at my office before I dropped her and her brother off at school.

She has no concept of what a president is, let alone an inauguration, and for all the times I've heard her babble on about "Barack Obama," the confusion on her face as he walked to the stage confirmed what I'd suspected for months — she had no idea that Barack Obama was a person, not just a fun thing to say.

And that's fine. If my daughter grows up not understanding why having a president of color is significant, then already the world is a better place.

My 12-year-old had a much better grasp on the import of the occasion. In fact, he woke up at 4:30 a.m. to make sure that we were all awake and ready to witness history and he made the decision to come into town early to watch it live on TV instead of listening to them on the radio as we drove in.

He watched the ceremony with interest while my 5-year-old complained bitterly about having to watch a boring bunch of talking heads instead of heading straight to school. When she got tired of my constant shushing, she began writing — with my help — an affectionate note to her teacher, who would surely have more fun in store than watching "the news."

As soon as Elizabeth Alex- ander rose to read her poem, my daughter rose to leave for school.

I have to say, for all the memorable images that flashed across the television screen, nothing could compare to the look on my daughter's face when she entered her kindergarten classroom to find the tail end of the inauguration ceremony projected onto the wall.

"Oh no," she moaned. "Not this again!"

But while I stood and watched, her teacher told my daughter and her classmates that they were going to take care of routine morning business, but they were also going to watch history being made. It was essentially what I had been trying to tell my daughter for about two hours by that point, with no success.

One sentence from her teacher is all it took for my daughter to take her seat quietly and turn her attention to the inauguration.

It was beautiful.

I suppose I could feel envious about my daughter's respect for her teacher, or maybe a little jealous that her teacher can make such a big impression with so few words. After all, at times there are absolutely no words I could use to make my daughter take heed — or at least that's the way it feels.

Instead, I'm grateful that that my daughter has someone to look up to, someone who can teach her things she can't — or won't — learn from her mom.

Historic or not, my daughter won't remember today and will probably learn from another teacher several years from now what events transpired. I'll remember, though, and maybe I'll even remember how this presidential transfer of power today put into sharp focus how much of my own power I've transferred to other authority figures in my daughter's life.