Sigh. Do I really have to explain this? Really? Okay, fine. Fine....

Sigh.

Do I really have to explain this?

Really?

Okay, fine. Fine. Here we go.

I want you to picture a six year-old girl. Bare, dirty feet from playing in the yard. Dress with pictures of bright blue kittens on it. Worn out stuffed bunny in one hand, carried by the ear. Some of the stitches are fraying.

Jam on her chin. Looks like blueberry, or maybe blackberry. Something dark.

Got all that? Are you holding the image of her clearly in your mind?

Close your eyes if it helps.

Okay, now we're going to make her say something.

"Imma DINOSAUR!" she says.

Can you hear it?

Good. Because here's the critical question: what are you going to say?

Are you going to angrily retort that she cannot possibly be a dinosaur, because dinosaurs were big and scaly and died out millions of years ago?

Will you bring up the wikipedia page on dinosaurs for her to read?

Will you call a paleontologist to explain things to her?

Or will you say ...

"That's nice, dear. What kind of dinosaur are you?"

... and then gently tease her for being the smallest T.Rex you have ever seen?

This is what six-year old girls do.

She will tell you she is a dinosaur or a fairy princess or an Eskimo. She will tell that her stuffed bunny talks to her at night.

If she is mad because you won't give her a cookie, she will tell you that you are the meanest meanie ever, and she is going to go run away to the woods and live with the bears.

And because she is a six year old girl, you will just smile and say, okay, have fun with the bears, knowing full well that she won't make past the end of the block, and will be back by lunchtime.

Do you understand now?

She's playing make-believe with you. To express that she's mad at you.

She doesn't actually hate you.

She doesn't actually want to go live with the bears.

She's just trying to tell you how she feels.

And you certainly shouldn't encourage her by giving her a cookie.

When she's no longer six, but sixteen, twenty-six, thirty-six, she'll get mad about different things, like elections.

And she'll make different threats, like she's not going to have sex with you.

And she'll use different language, like telling you she is fucking serious.

But she is still playing make-believe with you.

She is not going to stop having sex for four years.

She doesn't even expect you to believe that.

She's not even trying to fool you.

She's just trying to get you to understand how mad and scared she is.

And just like when she was six, it's a bad idea to give her a cookie. Otherwise, she'll get fat, and learn to throw tantrums all the time.

So, no, we are not going to let girls' feelings control the helm of the free world, and the destiny of the human race.

Sorry, sweetie, you cannot have a pony.

But we are not trying to make you mad and scared on purpose, and no one is trying to take your abortions away.

We're just going to engage in a little common-sense abortion control, that's all.

Deep breath. In. Out. Good.

Here. Tissue. Now blow.

Again.

Good.

Now tell daddy exactly what it is you're scared of.