My toddler, who is just 20 months old, is currently whining for the shiny, all-metal Cowboy Gun that his older brothers are happily playing with. They squeeze the trigger, and the satisfying metallic clunk echoes through the room. They aim it at invisible villains, at each other, and even at the walls, all while proudly sporting a cheap holster as they march into their make-believe battles.
Five years ago, I would have never tolerated such play. I’ve always held a strong anti-gun stance, believing that handguns should be outlawed. I swore my children would never have toy guns, especially not ones that resemble firearms. To me, guns symbolize violence and destruction, and I feared that allowing my kids to play with them would teach them that guns are acceptable, inadvertently supporting the gun lobby. My mission was clear: keep guns far from my children.
However, the gradual shift began with Star Wars. My husband introduced the saga to our eldest when he was merely three. Suddenly, he was introduced to the concept of a “blaster.” Lacking an actual one, he resorted to constructing blasters out of Duplos, which he carried around the house with glee, often leaving a trail of scattered blocks behind.
Outside, he would find sticks, shaping them into imaginary weapons while making instinctive “pew, pew, pew” sounds. These stick “blasters” varied in size, and he would try to keep them close, often sneaking them into the car and stashing them in his seat.
I realized I was fighting a losing battle. No matter how much I tried to confiscate the makeshift weapons, he would only create more, even with his fingers. I decided to permit him to play with “blasters”—but only if they were aimed at imaginary foes, never at real people. My best friend, Lisa, had a similar approach, and we spent countless playdates instructing our sons to shoot their elaborate Duplo creations at “imaginary bad guys.” “No shooting friends,” I repeated. “We don’t point blasters at people.”
Despite our best intentions, I knew that when we weren’t looking, the boys were likely aiming their blasters at each other. After numerous reminders that we don’t point blasters at people, we inadvertently began using the term “gun.” “No guns aimed at people!” I would state repeatedly, as would Lisa.
Gradually, we surrendered without ever having an explicit conversation about it. Our boys transformed into little warriors, crafting guns from Duplos, sticks, swords, and various toys, all while shouting “pew” at one another.
Before long, my son owned an actual blaster—a delightfully rounded, almost cute toy with a trigger that made a generic space gun sound and lit up when activated. It quickly became his favorite toy, and since it was a reward for good behavior, I felt I had no choice but to embrace it.
Once we welcomed that one blaster, it was as if a dam had burst. The toy blasters multiplied like poorly executed sequels to a sci-fi franchise. By this time, my eldest was nearing five, and his younger brother, just three, began clamoring for his own blaster. They wanted more—flashy, light-up versions, and even water guns for summer battles. Every pretend game seemed to revolve around guns. They could be found rummaging through their weaponry box filled with swords and blasters.
I held my ground against anything resembling a realistic firearm. I was determined that no authentic-looking gun would cross the threshold of our home. They might have a plethora of blasters, but I made sure none could be directly identified as a gun.
Until one fateful day, when my three-year-old earned a reward for using the potty. While at Ye Old Country Store, he spotted a cowboy cap gun. I was aware he had been eyeing a $30 dinosaur at Target, but all I could think about was the price as I allowed him to take the gun to the register. He was overjoyed, and once he opened it in the car, we had officially welcomed a real toy gun into our home.
I still feel conflicted about it. The gunplay and sound effects can be grating, but mostly, they aim at imaginary villains, not each other. We’ve had discussions about what to do if they ever come across a real gun. I remain a staunch advocate for gun control. However, I’ve come to realize that sometimes parenting diverges from our political beliefs. Perfection isn’t always attainable, and every now and then, that means your children might be aiming their toys at one another.
And you know what? That’s perfectly fine.
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