My son loves guns. He always has ever since he was a little bitty guy. His dad, who is an officer in the United States military, and me...not so much. My husband had enough gun time in the army. Me...they just scare the hell out of me. I don't want one, never fired one, never really even held one. Minus a toy rifle I had when I was a kid that shot dirt clods out the end, guns have never held any fascination for me.
But my son...that's another story. Squirt guns, Lego guns, cowboy guns, death ray guns, pretzel guns, peanut butter and jelly sandwich guns...You name it. If it even resembled something with a barrel and a trigger, it had his name all over it.
We tried. My lord, we tried. We removed any realistic guns from the Batman action figure package. Swords? No problem. Ninja stars? Let's get two. Compound bows? You betcha. Guns? No way! Didn't matter. He made them out of whatever he could find. Finally we gave up and let the guns stay in the package thinking they were 1/2 inch big. They'd get lost, get frustrating, get forgotten. Wrong. We should have learned then, but we didn't.
When he was about 4, he developed a love for all things army. I know this will sound ridiculous, but for Christmas that year, we got him his own little camouflage army uniform exactly like his dad's. We even sewed rank on and a name tape and U.S.Army across the pocket. Still didn't get him a gun.
His little buddies in the neighborhood would play soldier and cops and robbers in the back yard, and they all had "cowboy" pistols. My sister had that kind when we were little. You know what I'm talking about: silver with white "ivory" handles, and you could shoot caps off with them. My son's best friend had that kind of gun. He would come down and give Kyle a roll of caps. TJ would shoot the caps with his gun, and Kyle would pop his with a rock. Not quite the same thing, but I tried to talk it up. Then the boys would go into the back yard, Kyle would wear his uniform, and they would play army or something similar. TJ would use the cap gun, and Kyle would find a stick that acceptably resembled a gun, and they'd proceed to shoot each other in an all out war.
It got to be pretty pathetic. My mom gave me a lot of grief about the gun ban in my house, reminding me that I played with guns as a kid and turned out just fine. So I gave in and got Kyle a neon green plastic squirt gun. He was thrilled...until it cracked. I learned to keep a stock pile of squirt guns in the house for emergencies. It worked for awhile.
Then Kyle began to love anything and everything about the American Revolution. He worshiped the movie "The Crossing" about Washington crossing the Delaware. We read every book about George Washington and Sam the Minuteman, and Kyle learned to love history. I was THRILLED because I love history, and I found it charming that he was into the past at his young age. We went to reenactments and learned about the Colonial period and spent time at historic homes and met the soldiers who brought the past to life. I took up sewing so I could make him costumes. We took a trip to Williamsburg early that fall. I had made him brown breeches, a green wesket, a white shirt and found some buckle shoes. He wore them every day. He drilled with the militia every day. They got to know him so well, that when they'd see him coming, they'd say, "Everyone, line up behind Private Kyle. He'll show you what to do." By the end of the week, he'd been promoted to Corporal. It was at Williamsburg that we finally broke down and got Kyle his first gun. He was 4 1/2. He carried it with him for the entire week. I rationalized it by telling myself it was an "historic" gun. Whatever.
I remember one day at an event, we were wandering through an encampment. Kyle was about 5. There were several men in period costume sitting around a fire, and one of them was making musket balls out of lead. Kyle wandered up to them, invited himself into their circle, pulled up a log and sat down. I tried to shew him away, but the men were getting a kick out of him and engaged him in conversation. The bullet maker showed Kyle what he was doing and how the lead melted and called him over to watch it pour into the mold. After they had cooled, he handed one to Kyle to put in his own bullet pouch, which until then held rock bullets, and Kyle was in history heaven. Another guy gave him a carved horn powder measure, and they all filled his head with visions of guns to come.
In second grade, he met a boy who had an imitation long rifle. I had to admit, it was really cool, and it added a huge amount of authenticity to his costume. Breeches, vest, tricorn hat, long rifle...He looked just like a colonial boy. Kyle wanted that gun. He begged for it. I'm sure he prayed for it. I said no way, but in my heart, I thought it would be pretty cool to have to take to reenactments. I got a catalog on reproduction weapons. Kyle found it. Like a dog with a bone, that boy would not let go of the idea of owning his own long rifle. Finally, and I know this will sound sick, I told him that if he could save up enough money, he could buy it for himself. It cost $75. Where, I wondered, would an 8 year old come up with $75? I forgot about First Communion. Yes, after his party, Kyle had finally saved the $75 plus shipping and handling to buy his long rifle. My son used his First Communion money to buy a gun. Sick, I know.
It's been all downhill from there. In the past couple of years, the new thing is "Air Soft" guns. They are heavy plastic guns that shoot plastic b.b.'s. The thing is, they LOOK real. Except for the orange tips on the end of the barrels, you could mistake them for real guns. Of course, Kyle wanted one. Of course, I said, "Are you out of your mind?" Of course, he now has three.
Tonight, he is at an "Air Soft" birthday party in which all the boys bring their guns, ammo, camo, eye protection, you name it, and choose teams and have a war. It will last all night. He had the same kind of party last week for his own birthday. The boys were one motley collection of racquet ball goggles, ski goggles, Air Soft masks, sun glasses, and swimming goggles, with all kinds of guns and outfits too. They set off across my yard for the woods, good buddies all, and started playing. They stayed outside until dark then went to Kirk's work for more indoor fun (Air Soft guns stayed home.)
And I know this will sound sick too, but it was really rather heart-warming to see my son and his friends playing like 12 and 13 year old boys should instead of texting girls and acting cool. There was still some texting going on to be sure, but there was absolutely no cool to be found. Just don't tell them that because in their get-ups, they thought they were da bomb!
I am happy that Kyle wants to P-L-A-Y, even if it is Air Soft war. Who knows how long this phase will last. Probably not long. Life is short, and kids grow up so fast now. If he's holding an Air Soft gun, that means his hands are too busy to be texting girls, and I am just so fine with that!
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