Plastic train track becomes a rifle. Fingers shoot imaginary bullet after bullet.
I thought I was going to be that parent who bans all guns and gunplay. I’m a peacenik, after all. It turns out I just don’t care that much. It turns out they’re just having “fun” and there’s no real violence in their gun play. It turns out if you ask and ask them not to do it, they just don’t care, because really, are they actually hurting someone? No. Don’t get me wrong, there’s also actual violence. There’s kicking and toddler biting and smacks. But I feel confident that would happen anyway, between these brothers, whether or not they have water guns. Or shooter fingers.
Oliver brought home library books about both Passchendaele and WWII. Those are conversations neither of us are ready for. Luckily, he didn’t really read them before school started and they had to go back to the public library fairly quickly. Instead he spent all his time watching episode after episode of the Power Rangers. ‘Cause that’s so much better than death in the muddy trenches.
It was the Toronto International Air Show last weekend. Do you like the air show? It’s a pretty polarizing event. We can’t really escape it, because we’re directly in the flight path of the planes heading from Pearson to the lakeshore. So we try to embrace it. And we like airplanes around here. Although we don’t like the very loud military jets. Luckily, no Blue Angels this year to burst our eardrums or to make me think about what it must be like to live in Syria right now. Because yet again, the news is a horrible thing to watch or listen to.
I retreat to my house filled with toys that become guns and know that we are so fortunate in our circumstances; that gun play can stay innocent and removed from the ills of the world. I wish it was the same for everyone.