Have you ever tried to have a logical argument with a six-year-old? If you haven't, let me give you a little heads up: it doesn't work, you will lose every time.
Here is a for instance:
Six-year-old: "It's not fair that my brother gets to stay up later than I do."
Mom: "Your brother is fifteen. He's up doing homework."
Six-year-old: "It's not fair that my brother gets to stay up later than I do."
Mom: "He is fifteen. When you're fifteen, you'll get to stay up late doing homework, too."
Six-year-old: "It's not fair that my brother gets to stay up later than I do."
Mom: "No, it's not fair. Now, go to bed."
It's sort of like reading a novel and not liking the ending. It's not like you can reason with the author and have him or her change the ending. All you can do is rage at the nonsense and stupidity of an author who couldn't read your mind and make things turn out the way you envisioned.
I just finished reading a novel last night. It twisted in ways that I would not have twisted. It ended in ways that I would not have picked, but also that I did not even foresee. Is that so bad? Sometimes, I'm sure I would say, "Yes, in fact it was terrible!" But what a good thing that we are not all the same, that I can choose my stories endings just like someone else can choose theirs. And maybe, just maybe, I might be able to see things in a different light. "You're right, it's not fair," while I still add, "but you still need to go to bed."
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