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Let’s see if I have this straight. If a woman wants to “terminate her pregnancy,” it’s completely her choice. It’s nobody’s business what she decides about this, because it’s her body. Period. No exceptions. That’s the dogma of the modern feminist world. Right?

But everything suddenly changes when the mother is using abortion in order to kill a baby because she wants the other sex instead. In fact, it’s illegal in many places, including Great Britain, where a newspaper claimed recently that the practice is widespread in abortion clinics after it sent undercover reporters into clinics.

Is there any way to reconcile these startling inconsistencies? We’re told that abortion isn’t killing a baby. It’s not really murder, they say. But if a woman wants a son instead of a daughter — and she makes her choice to kill the baby daughter — those same activists tell us she’s done something monstrous. Why?

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Everyone was excited when God agreed to be a contestant on Jeopardy, but the show lost a lot of suspense after people realized He knew everything. Norman wasn’t happy with this turn of events.

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I had a great time Wednesday night playing with a smart and gregarious 4-year-old in the checkout line at Target. I’ve been thinking about it ever since, both because it makes me smile and because it makes me wonder why so many adults lose the child-like qualities that make real play so joyful.

It was a long line for a number of people. There was a problem with the register, so we were stuck for a couple of minutes. The woman in front of me had two little girls with her, and the girls went to the wall beyond the checkout line to wait. Then the oldest of the two called out to her mother, “Mom, the ice here costs $1.99.”

The mother smiled and agreed with her that that’s what the sign said. She told me the girl had been learning how to read and understand prices.

“That’s not a lot of money, is it?” the girl asked in our general direction.

The mother was busy talking to the cashier by then, so I responded by telling her that it would be a lot of money for a piece of gum, but it would not be much money for a car. We talked about the relative value of money and prices, and she seemed to understand a lot more than I would expect for her age.

Sarah is 4. Her mother homeschools her older brother and teaches quite a bit to Sarah that surprised me. By the time we finished our brief discussion of money, she came and showed me letters on the magazines in the checkout line.

“Letters work different from numbers,” she told me confidently, apparently in the belief that no one had ever taught me this. She then started showing me a game she had invented involving matching certain letters with other letters on other magazine covers. I’m not entirely sure I understood the rules of her game, because she was laughing too much as she tried to explain. She might have been making it up as she went, for all I know.

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