Senators will soon consider the credibility of allegations of sexual assault against a Supreme Court nominee.

The court of public opinion is also paying close attention. Voters, including parents worried about similar scenarios that their own high-schoolers may witness or experience, are taking note. And a series of logical questions prevent reasonable people -- including several Republicans -- from simply dismissing the allegations against Brett Kavanaugh.

Christine Blasey Ford, a psychology professor at Palo Alto University, reluctantly spoke out about a traumatic assault at a party when she was in high school, more than three decades ago. She says Kavanaugh pinned her down, groped her, tried to rip her clothes off and covered her mouth so she couldn’t scream. She said she thought he could have inadvertently killed her in his drunken state. She was 15. He was 17.

There are those who have tried to discredit her before any further investigation has happened. But for those considering her account more objectively, it raises questions that go to the heart of what is believable and credible.

First of all, why would Ford tell the same story to her husband and a therapist six years ago, in 2012? The therapist has documented notes of the same incident.

Why would she willingly take a lie-detector test (that she passed)?

If she was making up a story, why would she say there was another person in the room? She even names this person: Mark Judge, Kavanaugh’s friend and classmate at Georgetown Preparatory School. In her account, Judge jumped on top of them, sending all three tumbling, which allowed her to escape possibly being raped. Judge and Kavanaugh have both denied all the allegations.

Even more telling, after seeing what happens to women who speak out against powerful men -- such as what happened to Anita Hill during the Clarence Thomas hearings in 1991 -- why would Ford subject herself to humiliation, death threats and harassment by coming forward?

Why would she want to relive what must be among the worst memories of her life, publicly, in front of the nation? What could compel a woman to stand to lose so much -- her credibility and her privacy -- while risking her safety?

Ford tried to raise her concerns anonymously, and eventually spoke out after reports of her story came out. Most women and the vast majority of children and teens don’t report it when they are sexually abused or assaulted.

But how many women would attempt to bring to light information about their attacker if he were about to assume a lifetime appointment to the highest court in the country? It doesn’t make sense to invite this amount of pain and trouble into your life unless the stakes are too high to remain silent.

Perhaps the answers suggested by these questions is why Republicans like Sen. Orrin Hatch and an editorial in the Wall Street Journal are bringing out the worst sort of defense for Kavanaugh -- that even if he did it, it’s not that bad. These defenders are trying to claim that an attack on a girl is irrelevant to the confirmation of a Supreme Court justice, and they are doing President Trump’s nominee a grave disservice.

Attempted rape is not youthful indiscretion. There are 17-year-olds sentenced to prison for it. Supreme Court nominations have been derailed for far less.

Each of us will have to decide whether Ford’s allegations or Kavanaugh’s denials ring true. We will have to consider who has more to gain from lying. We will be able to judge if our values align with those who say an attempted rape in one’s teens is really no big deal.

Perhaps there was a time when such allegations, even if most people believed they were credible, were not taken seriously enough to impact a powerful man’s rise.

That is not this time.

I recently met with a willing, would-be executioner: a man who said he would gladly kill former presidents Barack Obama and Bill Clinton. Hillary too, of course.

At first, I figured he was joking. He assured me he was not.

“I think you underestimate the number of people who would pin a medal on me,” he said. Later, over email, I asked him to clarify. He wasn’t actually serious about murdering anyone, was he?

“My disgust for the conduct of the Clintons and Obama while they were in office is such that after they were tried and convicted, I would be glad to serve as their executioner. Preferably by driving over them in my car, several times,” he replied.

I got to know Edward Chapman, a 75-year-old retired federal employee who worked for the Department of the Army in St. Louis, when he started writing to me years ago. He was always polite and good-natured in his responses to my columns. Initially, I responded to his notes because he seemed genuinely curious about my ideas and beliefs, and he could disagree without being disagreeable. I knew we were on opposite sides of many political issues, although I had no idea of the depths of his animus toward former Democratic presidents.

He has emailed me at least a couple of times a month for several years. Once, he didn’t even know where to begin in taking down an argument I had made for better gun control regulations, so I asked him to send me articles he wanted me to read. Weeks later, I received a package with a half-dozen pro-NRA articles and a used copy of a book by John Locke. After I wrote about my disgust for the Trump administration’s family separation policy, he was so incensed by my position, he said, that he’d taken a day to cool off before writing me.

When a producer from StoryCorps reached out to me this summer about sitting down with a reader for a face-to-face, recorded interview, I immediately thought of Chapman. StoryCorps is a nonprofit that records interviews that can be submitted to the Library of Congress or aired on NPR. Its mission is to “preserve and share humanity’s stories in order to build connections between people.”

Going into the interview, I was inspired by the spirit of bipartisanship at Sen. John McCain’s recent funeral, and ready to find some common ground. Then, when we finally met, Chapman’s first question to me was whether I actually practiced Islam, which he considers one of the greatest evils in the world.

There may not be as much common ground here as I had hoped.

He informed me that he was convinced that “raghead Obama” is a Muslim. I asked if any evidence could convince him otherwise. He said that the Pope himself could vouch for Obama’s Christianity and Obama could present Jesus to him, and he would still believe Obama was a Muslim. (For the record, Obama is a Christian.) I’d had no clue that my loyal reader was so deeply committed to conspiracy theories -- although, a 2016 poll found that two-thirds of Trump supporters believe Obama is a Muslim, so maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised.

I told him about the boy in seventh grade who called my mom a “raghead” every day after school. Chapman said I was less of “an Islamic” in his eyes than Obama.

I encourage my children to talk to people outside their bubble of those who agree with them. It’s the only way to get a better understanding of the world we live in. But is there value in talking to people who reject reason and evidence and embrace bigoted views of others?

I honestly don’t know.

What I do know is that I ended up spending two hours talking to someone I normally would have written off. I discovered we both care deeply about protecting the environment, and that both our lives have been touched by Alzheimer’s (his wife, my grandparents).

I learned how easily people can compartmentalize their views: Chapman seemed completely sensible on certain topics and unhinged on others.

I seemed to puzzle him the same way. He said I’m a contradiction to him, because I’m a Muslim woman who seems like an intelligent, American suburban mom, whose writing he enjoys. How can this be?

I am perplexed how a man who would take joy in killing Obama, and who believes newspapers distort or hide the truth, could appreciate anything I have to offer.

We each must hope that we can influence the other in some way. More than “making connections” or recognizing our shared humanity, I think we both realized the limits to understanding.

A dear friend expecting her second child recently confided that she had lost sleep wondering if she would be able to love her second as much as she loves her first. My first impulse was to laugh and tell her she was being silly.

Until I remembered that I had worried about the exact same thing when I was expecting my second. In fact, I had struck a deal with my husband, saying he would need to love the second since I would clearly not be able to match my feelings for our firstborn.

Needless to say, I was wrong.

In that spirit, here are seven myths about having a second child. Full disclosure: I fell for all these misconceptions myself.

Myth 1. You will not be able to love the second child as much as the first.

It may not happen all at once, but trust me, it happens. For many parents, the intensity of feeling for our firstborn can be startling. I had never experienced that depth of emotion before, so I couldn’t imagine that it could happen twice. It can be shocking to realize your capacity for love.

Myth 2. It will only be twice as much work to add another child.

No, the workload will increase by a greater multiple than two. Having to constantly meet the needs of two children, especially if they are close in age, can feel overwhelming, especially in the beginning. Unlike with the first baby, there’s always another little human who needs your attention, so it’s not as easy to catch naps when you are sleep-deprived. It’s also normal to worry about neglecting the older child, who all of a sudden seems so much older. But a little independence and responsibility, even for a toddler, is a good thing. There will be days that pass in a blur, but it does get easier.

Myth 3. What worked with the first will work with the second.

Yes, you are more experienced and, hopefully, more relaxed about parenting the second time around. But just because the first was a great napper doesn’t mean the next one will be. Just because the first loved veggies, don’t expect another adventurous eater. Intellectually, we know each child is different, but it still feels like a rude shock when you realize that your firstborn’s excellent sleep habits likely had little to do with your superior parenting skills, since those same skills aren’t doing squat this time.

On the upside, the challenges you faced with the first may never arise with the second.

Each child will reach milestones at different points. One will sit up, walk, talk or read sooner than the other. Avoid jumping to conclusions. Remember that there is a wide range of normal, and if he or she falls within that scope, relax.

Myth 4. You will be just as diligent with the second as you were with the first.

The truth is there will be fewer baby pictures (forget the baby book right now), fewer early childhood activities and less one-on-one time. The reason is rather simple: There’s more to do but no additional time to do it. Plus, in the wisdom you’ve accrued from child number one, you realize that making flashcards for a baby is a largely worthless endeavor. But while the second child may get less of your undivided attention, he or she gets a better, more experienced parent.

Myth 5. You’ll lose the pregnancy weight as quickly as you did with the first.

Perhaps if you’ve got a team of support staff, including a trainer, housekeeper and cook, you can expect to get that pre-baby body back quickly. For the rest of us, it takes longer. Even if the extra pounds melt away relatively quickly because of nursing and lacking the time to eat proper meals, things will not look quite the same. Um, ever.

Myth 6. You won’t have a favorite.

Oh, yes, you will. It will change depending on which child is making your life slightly easier that day, week or month. Don’t feel guilty about this. You should (and will) love them equally, but there will certainly be times when you like one more than the other.

Myth 7. My child will finally have a playmate.

They may seem more like mortal enemies than best buddies, at least for a while. Get used to squabbles, whining and accusations: one child claiming the other always gets away with everything, is loved more and never gets caught being bad. There will also be, however, moments of great friendship and hilarious overheard conversations between the two. Those make up for all the “He’s so annoying!” and “She’s touching my stuff!”

I still believe the greatest gift you can ever give a child is a sibling. Underneath the bickering and fighting is a very deep bond of a shared childhood and family experiences -- things only a brother or sister can understand.