We finally reached a compromise and my son agreed to get off and walk his bike where the “blind” area begins on the street.
Soon after we allowed him this freedom, I was relieved to find that he and the neighborhood boys have formed their own little tribe. What’s nice about their tribe is that they are of mixed age. My son is 8 and is among the youngest and the oldest is in his first year of middle school. The tribe goes from house to house. They climb trees, go sledding, play basketball and hide and seek, ride skateboards and raid refrigerators. Today my son announced. “We’re building a clubhouse.”
Great, I thought. What a nice, old-fashioned, wholesome activity. Kinda like the Little Rascal’s He-Man Woman Haters Club. (Except the tribe accepts girls. They even let my daughter, who is better on the Rib-stick than any of them, hang out with them when she wants to.)
Then he said “and then we’re gonna get some BB guns and shoot anyone who comes near it!”
The S. man and I have tried to stick to our guns about not acquiring any weapons as playthings. Still, when we were in New Mexico, and we allowed him to pick out a souvenir, he begged for tomahawks and bow and arrows. In every toystore he goes straight to the plastic tommy guns. And I probably don’t need to tell you what he designed himself from Legos and sticks. (And is it any wonder that the Strong National Museum of Play has inducted the stick into its Toy Hall of Fame?)
Well, what do you think? I think he’ll shoot his eye out!