Back when our fridge was melting butter and we were forced to find our meals amongst the local dining establishments, Nate and I decided to bring Ava to a little, old pizza parlor where we like to get take-out. Apparently most of the customers are of the take-out variety as the plastic plants and vinyl booths hadn’t been updated since Pac-Man was king.
While we were waiting for a thin, crust supreme with fresh tomatoes, Nate took Ava’s jumpy legs for spin around the particle board partitions.
They discovered a mini arcade and Ava made a mad dash for Police Trainer. Yes, a shooting game.
She grabbed the red revolver, swung it around, and pointed it at her dad.
“Look daddy! They have gas here!”
Our daughter is going to be a cop! (or a gas station attendant)
Well, thank the Lord she didn’t know what it was and, it seems, you escaped without having to explain that one to her…yet.
Imagine my horror as we, too, recently visited a food joint that housed video games. Well, I wasn’t horrified at the video games per se. We sat by them, in fact. I figured the flurry of children in that area would give my boys something to look at as we waited for our “world’s best burgers” and malts. I was right (but not about the “best burgers” part). Look they did. It wasn’t until after we settled into our table that I realized the “game” (if you can call it that) closest us was a shooting game. Two giant rifles each the size of Kieran and a screen flashing with running bucks and does. And a bevy of boys awaiting their turn to shoot the deer (we weren’t near home at the time…we were in an area where there is significantly more hunting. And more Wal-Marts, to be sure.).
I tried to distract Kieran away from the rifles by offering him sugar packets to play with and sips of water. That did nothing for him and, as soon as there was a break in the line, Kieran hopped up and grabbed a rifle. Then, the dreaded, “What is this, Mama?”
I looked at Israel, hoping he would help. Then I quickly took matters into my own hands, because it didn’t take long for me to realize Israel would probably tell our son the gosh darn truth. Imagine that.
Not about to have The Moment Of Truth about guns at that moment in that restuarant, I lied. I directly and deliberatly lied to my 2 year old son.
“Um, it’s like a big stick…a big stick that you can use to point to the deer. See? There? Do you see one, running (away) in the thicket? Some of the kids were using it to point out the deer!”
Crisis averted. For now. May the shame be upon me.
Ahh, yes, my son loves “guns”. Everything becomes a “gun” these days since his cousin likes to pretend he’s shooting my son when they play together. But I don’t think Henri knows what they are still, except he carries around a stick, points it at you and says its a gun. Oh, but this post and Wal-mart one have me laughing out loud! I love Ava.