Snow appears through the window in spurts. I'm hoping that my husband will be home soon, so I'm hesitant to leave, even though the girls are clearly needing a change of scenery. Instead, I get a wild idea to break out the dress-up clothes that I bought for my oldest daughter probably two years ago -- before the baby was even here with us.
If you don't like feminism, don't call yourself a feminist. But I have a hunch that when your brilliant little girl grows up and voices her desire to be president you are not going to tell her she should instead look for a man to open her jars -- you may even encourage her to call herself a feminist.