WHENEVER my daughter asks me a question, I try to answer honestly. Whether it’s her curiosity about where babies come from, the intricacies of periods, or the reality of death, I give her information in an age-appropriate way. Yet, I let her believe that fairies flutter just out of sight in the garden, bathing in morning dew. She goes to bed on Christmas Eve convinced that she will hear the bells of Santa’s sleigh ringing in the night’s sky.

Myths and magic are what make childhood so special. During that time, stories always have a happy ending; goodies beat the bad guys, and anything is possible.

She knows the world isn’t perfect and not all children have the same experiences. Last Christmas, we went shopping for gifts for mums and children who were living in Women’s Aid refuge accommodation. Of course, I didn’t spell out the horror of what these families had been through, but I explained as best I could.

This week, when I forced myself to watch the video of children held in detention cages, crying and sobbing for their parents, and she asked me “What’s happened?’’ I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. I couldn’t find a way to distil the horror of Trump’s America into something palatable and understandable to a four year-old.

You don’t have to be a parent to experience a physical reaction to the personal testimonies and footage of the grotesque “zero tolerance’’ immigration policy. If you have a functioning heart: it aches. I had avoided watching the videos for as long as I could, knowing that it would be something I couldn’t unsee and would never forget.

Babies, who have no concept of time, feeling like their world has been taken away, as their eyes frantically search for the familiar. Each with their own needs and routine: little tricks for soothing and comforting that their parents will have learned and perfected over hours of twilight care and kisses.

Toddlers, using the words that their parents taught them to shout out for the people they love. Confused and upset when they don’t come. Toddlers trying to express their needs to strangers, amidst the noise and chaos of mass detention.

Older children, devastatingly aware of what is going on. Trying to be brave for the wee ones. Old enough to know, but not anywhere near old enough to understand. Because who can understand the justification or necessity of ripping children from their mother’s arms?

The only people that would attempt to rationalise this behaviour are men like Donald Trump and his apologists. People who describe human beings as an “infestation’’ “animals’’ or a “swarm.’’ Those who see them as less or other. Those that label immigrants and refugees a threat while enacting the most brutal cruelty upon innocent families.

With the images of weeping children, wrapped in tin foil blankets and caged, etched in our minds, we heard the news that Donald Trump will meet the Queen on his upcoming visit to the UK.

At Prime Minister’s Questions, Theresa May faced questions from Ian Blackford and others about what human right’s abuses Donald Trump had to commit before we packed away the red carpet and told him he wasn’t welcome.

We’re told we’ve got to keep him on side. Diplomacy. Deep and special partnership. Trade deal. We’re told if we do anything other than legitimise and woo this despot in the White House, then we’re failing to understand how the cogs of international relations keep turning.

We’re stupid, basically. Our minds aren’t sophisticated enough to grasp the complexities of dealing with a President like Trump.

This attitude amounts to nothing less than an abdication of the values and principles that we’re constantly told the United Kingdom holds dear. Make no mistake: we are complicit. We are cowardly. Faced with an abusive, bullying and bigoted President, the UK Government has decided that amidst the problems of its own making – there’s simply no time for standing up for human rights.

The spinelessness of our government should concern us all. If we tolerate the leader of the free world caging children, then there’s not much we won’t turn a blind eye to. We could analyse the impact of Brexit and how that will ultimately make our principles expendable, as we hunt the globe for trade deals. We could look at populist movements across the Europe and question what that means for a diminished and susceptible UK.

But for now, I think our energies are best served in telling Theresa May loudly and clearly: your appeasement of Trump is not in our name. She may choose to hold his hand, but we won’t.

When Trump arrives in the UK, I have no doubt he will be met with a wall of anger and protest from ordinary citizens. When he lives a narcissists dream and sits down for tea with the Queen, he will feel special and important. He will tweet about it. Americans who are under the illusion that having a royal family is something to be cherished will perhaps wonder how the so-called epitome of class could do something so utterly classless as to normalise Donald Trump.

Commentators alongside the UK Government will continue gaslighting the country into believing this is “just politics.’’ And history will judge them for it.