Thursday, May 26, 2016

Bird brains

When I was four or five years old, I had re-occurring dreams that I was a young bird living in a burrow in the ground. Perhaps some Freudian out there can tell me what those dreams meant; I have no real idea, only a vague feeling about them. (They were very disturbing, and I always was afraid that someone walking along the surface was about to crush my burrow.)

But if I had had circa-2016 "progressive" parents and had reported this dream to them, I can imagine they would have found a doctor for me who would amputate my arms and build me wings, and my parents would have demanded that I have full access to the aviary at the zoo.

Growing up is tough, and we certainly should be kind to children as they experience confusion about their identity. But being kind has nothing to do with encouraging children to think that their fantasies are reality, and performing irreversible medical procedures on children far too young to be making such life-altering choices.

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