Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Choo-Choo-Choose Your Own Adventure.

There are people screaming all around us, everywhere we go.
It is all related to the World Cup, but who really knows?
In THIS economy it's anyone's guess.

When I was little there were a few kids I got to play with that lived on the block and some of them were allowed to play guns and some of them weren't, and they were the kids that most wanted to play guns, because of that fact. It didn't really matter who was who, or where we were, but it was an indisputable fact that yellow Wiffle Ball bats were the best makeshift gun you could have on account of that they also made good swords in a pinch. This was only if you didn't have any actual toy guns just lying around the house which was the case for a lot of these kids on the block.
What I am getting at here is that I grew up playing guns. It was a fun thing to be running around the yards of my neighborhood, hiding and ambushing and hiding again. 

I always was fond of the hiding, it gave me some time to myself and it allowed for introspection.

It was a phase and honestly once the Nintendo came out it was goodbye guns and hello dank basements where I spent the remainder of my innocence until girls preoccupied my time, and skateboarding, where we would often discuss girls.
And kickflips.

I am thinking of all this lately because of Burger's recent discovery of good and evil.
Good fights evil, and often times it is with guns, swords and in desperate times, fists.
It is all very innocent, his "guns" still go "pew-pew", and no one is ever actually killed.
But it isn't the playing of guns that bothers me because like I just said, I played guns, 
playing guns was fun! I got a lot of exercise playing guns, guns on the run.
What I didn't have while I was playing guns was school shootings, a term that is it's own actual term now on account of the frequency in which they happen.
Another thing I didn't have was real war going on. 
Wars where they use guns.

I had a Wiffle Ball bat and my imagination.
I had an 8-bit plumber stomping on mushrooms.
I had a fear of nuclear explosions, but it was on par with my fear of tornadoes...
Nature's nuclear explosion.

This is the dilemma.
Let him play what he wants, in his own blissful ignorance of the real world terror that generally accompanies such actions.
Forbid him from playing such games and use real, blunt terms to explain the horror in hopes that he is scared straight, and decides to instead focus on getting his studies in place so that he can go on to become the first American Indian President of the United States only AFTER he has just finished an illustrious, legendary career as Quarterback to the Green Bay Packers where he single handedly set all of the franchise (and most of the NFL) records, all while the crowds cheered his initials, which conveniently are "A-O-K!"...

Also, I get a signed football.

1 comment:

  1. I enjoyed your writing on an interesting parent dilemma. As a preschool teacher I tell my kids "No guns at school. At home you have to ask your parents." I present it as one of those things, like kissing, that we don't do at school. I hope that the message sticks. "No guns at school."


No dick heads please.