Morning thoughts:
Monday 07:45 a.m.
You draw your nine year old daughter in close and she nuzzles your neck. She comments, “Mommy. What is the perfume you are wearing? It smells nice!” You respond, “It is your Daddy’s favorite.” Thanking God again for giving you a daughter, a smile crosses your lips as you head out the door to work. Your child is in the best school in the city. She has a bright future ahead of her, with the educational offering.
Monday 10:00 a.m.
Your daughter is seated in the hallway of the municipal sewage work site. She is about to receive an Edge-Ucation.
Counselor:
“You are having some concerns about your period?”
Child:
“Yes. It seems icky. My Mom told me I will bleed once a month.”
Counselor:
“Do you have any other concerns?”
Child:
“Well, I like playing with boys more than the girls in my class. But I do want to grow up so that my best girlfriend and I can live together forever. I really like her!”
The counselor smiles pleasantly and gets a mental image of holding the little bitch underwater in the sewage canal with just a strand of hair floating in the e coli flotsam.
“You know what (you little slut!)? I really think that you are a boy! You just haven’t figured it out yet. So let’s pick a boy’s name you like. I will show you how to begin to bind your breasts. And to keep you on track, we will visit twice a week and I am going to help you heal from being born in the wrong body. Your body has betrayed you. It is very common, you know.” The counselor goes on, “But this is our secret. Your parents will not understand. You CANNOT trust your parents!” The counselor relishes the image again: a filthy strand of hair floating on the water. “Give it three months,” she thought. “It took about that amount of time to convince that eight year old boy to consider having his penis whacked off.”
Six months later, a little girl is found hanging in a school bathroom. When the Counselor receives the news she closes the door to her office. Leaning back in her chair, she envisions a small and lifeless corpse floating along in the sewage. She licks her lips repeatedly, as do all psychological cannibals.
*Blogger’s note: The childhood questions posed above were my own, at about nine years of age. I am still my mother’s daughter, fully heterosexual, and grateful for what God has chosen for my life.
If your young child comes home and tells you they are transgender, you need to find out whose hand is holding their head under water in the sewage canal.
Updated post: Yes, they are stalking your progeny:
The Last English Prince 