Yesterday Colton and I were driving home from the grocery when I heard, “bang bang.”
I turned around to see him holding his two hands in the standard “boys are born with it” gun position.
“Look mama,” he said, “I have two guns.”
When Keenan found his gunside, I was mortified. I immediately had visions of him on the eleven o’clock news and me trying to explain that I was indeed a good parent who knew everything my child was doing and FOR SURE it was not the Xbox games I allowed him to play.
Answering questions like, “If you didn’t love your red wine so much do you think this would have happened?” Or. “Do you think it was the lack of effort you put into your laundry that drove him to such measures?” Or. “Maybe it was your lack of showering. Because you know what they say, Cleanliness is next to Godliness.”
Then? Noah did it. And I was all, “Oh, I get it. Boys are just born with the gun gene.” This time, instead of freaking out and calling psychiatrists, I casually responded by guiding Noah through the whole, “It’s fun to be a cowboy, but remember we never shoot at people, only targets.” It worked. I am a master. You should all refer to my parenting advice. Always.
So. I used the same line with Colton:
Me: That is cool that you have found your guns. But remember. We only use them on targets, NEVER people. You know, like that sign. *pretends her fingers are guns and shoots the sign* “Bam,” I say. “I just shot that sign.”
I looked back at Colton and he was giddy that I, his totally uncool mother, had just used her gun to shoot a sign.
Me: Get it?
Colton: *grinning like the Joker* Uh-huh.
A couple of minutes pass, and then this.
Colton: Bam. I just shot a sign too.
Me: Nice work.
Colton: But, it went through your head first.
Me: *dials a psychiatrist*