A few days later, as I walked my kids back from a playground near the UN, several Ukrainians came over to thank me for exposing Russia’s lies. One distraught elderly woman said, “We were afraid we would be alone.” Afterward, Declan asked me what the women were so upset about, so I told him about Putin, searching for terms a five-year-old could understand. “It’s like someone entering our apartment, taking two of your favorite stuffed animals from your toy corner, and then saying they used to belong to him,” I explained. “How would that feel?”
Like Israel
