Dan's Papers - April 11, 2008 - Err, A Parent - Raising Children, learning Lessons

So many decisions to make as parent. Bottle feed or nurse? Family bed or separate wing? Public school in the neighborhood or prep school in another country. Every factor is heavily weighed, based on how it might affect intelligence, physical health, personality, and social skills. In other words, will it scar him for life if I let him eat in front of the television this one time while I finish writing an article?

For my partner and me, part of our early talks on parenting included the decision about toy guns and weapons. In her family, it was totally off limits. For mine, it was a non-issue. Pop guns, squirt guns, toy rifles and even BB guns were part of the landscape along with "Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots," "Candyland" and other board games, sports equipment, dolls, books, et cetera. My father never served in the military, two of my brothers somehow evaded the draft during Vietnam, and my eldest brother left the Marines after just a year on an honorable discharge, without seeing any "action." We just weren't the kind of family drawn to that type of civil service, but we did like playing cops and robbers and cowboys and Indians.

But growing up in the '60s, I became a folk-song singing, wavy-hair ironing, desert-boot wearing, tie-dyed in the wool pacifist. When my classmates were chanting "Gimme a C!" my high school cheer was "Hell no we won't go." So by the time I became a parent, I was totally on board with the no gun thing. Then we had a boy - no, I won't generalize - then we had our son.

All the stories were true: Sticks became swords. A remote control gadget became a laser gun. A bare paper towel roll became his "super shooter 82000." When he spied my foot-and-a-half long spiral skewers with the ornate handle, he suddenly became very interested in vegetable kebobs. In addition to loving cooking, dancing, singing, reading, story telling and dress-up, he was intrigued by guns and WMDs, sometimes choosing a toy the way I choose an entree at a restaurant. Forget about the fish - I want the capers. He didn't really care about the Peter Pan doll, but had to have the splinter-sized plastic knife.

Well, we stuck to our guns about our no-gun rule. You might say we were militant about it, but I wouldn't. Yet his interest continued, and his friends had Power Ranger, ninja, Darth Vader and every other costume with cool weapons. But with my partner standing firm, we compromised a little, letting him have swords (part of a pirate costume after all) and "action" figures. (Hmmm, "seeing action?" "Action figures?" I think I get it.) His first three "action" toys were purchased at - yes, the family friendly Disneyworld. Buzz Lightyear's laser gun. A Zurg action figure with his detachable weapon. A Pirates of the Caribbean sword that talked. Well, that opened us up to the world of Transformers: Optimus Prime. Starscream. Barricade. Decepticon Brawl. Love those names. And I actually really like the toys - it's ingenious how they're made. A puzzle in 3-D. Every little piece perfectly crafted. And Optimus Prime is a good guy - I digress. We explained that it's all for pretend. That even though Optimus Prime turns into a meteor that looks like a bomb, it's not to be thrown at people. That he can hit pillows and sofas with the swords, but never living things. That toy weapons are just that, toys. That the real things hurt people and in our family we believe that hurting and killing are always wrong.

I recently found out that Yoko Ono and John Lennon let Sean have toy guns. Yoko said boys had to work out their aggression. It gave me pause and made me feel better. Was little Sean playing with a laser shooter while John wrote "All we are saying, is give peace a chance?" Hmmm. New strategy. From now on, I'll have Joan Baez recordings on a loop in the playroom.