Imagine if you will, a soldier. He's trapped behind enemy lines, fighting each day just to survive. He sleeps maybe three hours a day, gaining sustenance from whatever roughage he can get his hands on.
In the afternoons, he runs from the enemy, hides from them, and does whatever he can to avoid them in hopes that he'll someday be reunited with his unit.
He's lost all contact with the outside world. What thoughts race through his head? "Is the war over? It has to be ongoing, otherwise why are they still chasing me? What news do we have from Washington? Is there even a Washington DC still standing? What about my friends? My family?" A million questions with a million possible answers are all he has for entertainment.
One day, after everything has taken its toll, he loses his last morsel of hope. He lays down in a field to die.
As he hears shouting and gunfire, all he can hope for is that his captors grant him a swift death before the vultures have the opportunity to pick meat from his weakened bones. But they aren't the enemy... they're his friends. He's been rescued. He's safe.
Now, imagine a 3 year old girl being told before a meal that if she cleans her plate she'll be given ice cream.
From my daughter's point of view, these stories are pretty much the same.
