Horrific title, I know. I remember being at dinner at the home of one of my favorite people, Sondra, and her being outraged that her kids found a duck hunting video game on their new console. They loved it. They shot pellets not actual pictures of ducks, but the point was, they were being exposed to guns. This one snapshot became my reference point for gun exposure. No Guns. No Pretend Guns. No Pretend Guns Shooting Pretend Things.
Fast forward 4 years, I was now a parent: I asked Sondra about how to stop Noah being exposed to guns. She sighed. Said it was no use, they'd just make guns out of sticks.
But Noah hasn't watched TV. He hasn't seen a movie. Nowadays it's just the two Mac Airs, sitting beside one another in perfect harmony.
Yet somehow, at the park on Sunday, the following event took place: I showed him a giant piece of bark that I'd picked up to take home, and he went off to behind the slide and I happily commented to Eug,
"Hey Eug, he might break the bark, but I'm ok with it. He's entertaining himself! Woohoo!"
To which Eug replied:
"Uhhh. Jo. I think he's shooting at us from a protected position."
"WHAT??? how does he know about shooting????"
Long story short, he's been making space ships and having strategic battles with daddy. They don't shoot, because, at the speed that spaceships move, guns would be ridiculous, apparently. They send out rockets.
And now, Noah ambushes his parents with bark at the park.