I like very much to talk with the being. Evidently, I like being an idiot with her, teasing her, being teased, and so on. But I also like very much to talk about serious things. Since she was much smaller—she is now 10—I have talked with her about all sorts of things, without dumbing things down, and without dodging questions when she asks something. Sometimes it is not trivial, especially when one gets questions one didn’t expect, like when she wanted to know what condoms are: she had seen a dispenser in front of a pharmacy, she was curious, she asked, and it was up to me to answer. I often simplify the answer, but I answer. I said that condoms are something one uses to have sex without risking having children. I didn’t go into chlamydia and such. It would have been easy to change the topic, to pretend I hadn’t heard the question, but I felt it was my obligation to answer, and to answer in a way that she had a chance of understanding.

Over time, I have talked to her about stocks, menstruation, death, the—in my opinion, discriminatory—French implementation of the separation of church and state, climate change, elections, and the need to not vote for whoever promises you the moon, and so on. Clearly, most of our conversations are about simpler things, but I just don’t think I should treat my daughter as if she were an idiot. I guess I also hope that she will grow naturally into talking with me about whatever adults talk about, instead of having to jump directly there from discussing Peppa Pig. I guess I also want to make clear to her what I think is right, and why.

All of that is nice and well, but often the issue remains of finding a way to make things understandable. When it comes to international politics, Trump makes that very easy. I mean, explaining Machiavelli to a kid would be much harder, but Trump is definitely no Machiavelli. Trump is so transparently driven by elementary feelings like greed, spite, insecurity, impulsiveness, or having at the same time an inferiority complex and an oversized opinion of himself, that every kid can understand what one is saying. Trump is a bully, and every kid understands bullies. Trump is a liar, and every kid understands liars. Trump is untrustworthy and disrespectful, and kids understand what that means. Trump is not acting in the interest of anybody but himself, and kids get that. Yes, I have to find imaginary parallels in settings and characters from the being’s life (school, teachers, class delegates, kids in her class or her skating club), but she understands what one is talking about. At least in the slightly diffuse and cloudy way that kids often understand things. She understands on her own that the bully can prevail in the short term, and that this is bad for the others, but that he will end up without friends when he wants them. She understands that around the bully there are toadies. That there are also people who want to use him for their own goals. She understands that it would be wrong to encourage other people to risk revolting against a bunch of other vicious bullies, telling them that one would support them and then not doing anything when they do—this is what Trump did with respect to Iran. She also understands that giving that encouragement while perfectly knowing that one would not do anything is actively evil. And that doing so without even having given a fleeting thought to the question of whether one actually would do anything is irresponsibly evil. She understands that the obvious answer is to not trust a word the bully says. She understands that one does not invite the bully to birthday parties. That everybody else has to stick together to protect whoever is being bullied right now. Anyone who has watched the Harry Potter movies, and the being has, can understand all of this.

Explaining Trump to the being is also made easier by the fact that it is not hard to think of him in infantile terms. Although you have surely already heard about this, let me give you an amazing example. After Trump announced 10% tariffs on a bunch of European countries, the prime ministers of Finland and Norway wrote him the following message:

Dear Mr. President, dear Donald—on the contact across the Atlantic—on Greenland, Gaza, Ukraine—and your tariff announcement yesterday. You know our position on these issues. But we believe we all should work to take this down and de-escalate—so much is happening around us where we need to stand together. We are proposing a call with you later today—with both of us or separately—give us a hint of what you prefer! Best—Alex and Jonas

Exactly 27 minutes later, the prime minister of Norway got the following answer:

Dear Jonas: Considering your country decided not to give me the Nobel Peace Prize for having stopped 8 wars PLUS, I no longer feel an obligation to think purely of peace, although it will always be predominant, but can now think about what is good and proper for the United States of America. Denmark cannot protect that land from Russia or China, and why do they have a “right of ownership” anyway? There are no written documents, it’s only that a boat landed there hundreds of years ago, but we had boats landing there, also. I have done more for NATO than any other person since its founding, and now, NATO should do something for the United States. The world is not secure unless we have complete and total control of Greenland. Thank you! President DJT

As Alexandra said, Hossein nailed it when he associated Trump’s answer with The Day the Crayons Quit. Here is an extract:

Yellow Crayon here. I need you to tell Orange Crayon that I am the color of the sun. I would tell him, but we are no longer speaking. And I can PROVE I’m the color of the sun too! Last Tuesday, you used me to color in the sun on your “HAPPY FARM” coloring book. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s on page 7. You CAN’T MISS me. I’m shining down brilliantly on a field of YELLOW corn!

And here is the answer of Orange Crayon:

I see Yellow Crayon already talked to you, the BIG WHINER. Anyway, could you please tell Mr. Tattletale that he IS NOT the color of the sun? I would, but we are no longer speaking. We both know that I am clearly the color of the sun because, on Thursday, you used me to color the sun on BOTH the “Monkey Island” and the “Meet the Zookeeper” pages in your “DAY AT THE ZOO” coloring book. Orange you glad I’m here? Ha!

A difference between the Crayons and Trump is that the Crayons are not real. And that they are not bullies. Probably because they have no power. What is hard to convey when talking about Trump with the being is that in this world we find ourselves, Voldemort has been replaced by an orange crayon who just happens to be the worst kind of bully who has quite a bit of power.