Stories are an avenue into worlds unknown. Sometimes these worlds are magical and wondrous. And sometimes they are dreary and frightening. Sadly, I recently (and accidentally) introduced my daughter to one of these latter worlds.
Here's how that happened. As I've mentioned before, my daughter and I play through story-adventures in the car. Our current one involves being members of Final Fantasy Type-0's "Class Zero" - battle-trained cadets asked to go on secret missions for the sake of their country. I am "Diamond", who wields a giant axe and a fiery temper. My daughter is "Spade", a quiet and thoughtful ninja with "shurikens attacked to ropes". Sure, why not!
On this particular day we were embarking on a mission to infiltrate the capital city of the belligerent Milites empire. They were on the verge of creating a supremely powerful mech, you see, and the prototype just had to be destroyed before the Milites could start mass producing the new model. Otherwise, all... would be lost.
Since this was a "sneaky mission", we couldn't simply fight our way through the city and into the research laboratory; we had to go through the sewers. And of course (since I'm the way I am) we emerged from the sewers... into a bathroom.
There was a Milites soldier peeing as Spade cautiously lifted the floor grate and peeked his head through. "I'll go up quickly and wait then," my daughter said.
"Are you sure? He can just turn his head and see you."
"He just has to turn his head," I explained, confused by my daughter's confusion. She hesitated, shrugged, and jumped out from the floor and knocked the soldier out with a single punch.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed. "There's a flush from the stall with the closed door! You didn't realize that -"
"Wait," my daughter interrupted with dawning horror. "Wait. Wait. Does this mean that... boys can see each other when they pee?"
"Oh. Uh, yes. I mean, you're not supposed to look - and most don't - but in theory it's -"
"GROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!" she shrieked as I instinctively hit the brakes. "OH. MY. GOSH. I am so glad I am not a boy!"
And that's how a story taught my daughter a fundamental truth of the world: boys are definitely gross.
(Later, after a few minutes of stunned reflection: "Wait. Daddy, you're a boy, aren't you.")