We don’t really do weapons in our house.
I’m by no means a ‘no child of mine will ever play with guns’ kinda mum, but Dan has never really been that into shooting everything that moves.
He’s more of a thoughtful child. Takes after his mum, that way.
Likes puzzles and books and playing Top Trumps.
But at a recent playdate at my house, a friend of mine brought her two boys round to play (three schoolage boys racing around my house – what was I thinking!) and she’s a bit of a stickler for ‘proper’ toys.
No plastic in her house, it’s all sustainable wood with a Fairtrade pedigree, child-friendly paint and didn’t originate from anywhere quite so crass as Toys R Us.
So Dan greets her first son with two foam swords and asks if he’d like to duel (foam swords are OK, right? Soft and squidgy and harmless – unless in the hands of my 3-year-old daughter, of course, then you’ll know how hard foam can be).
Anyway, his mummy smiles and lets out a little chuckle but her eyes say something totally different.
Over the next 10 minutes all four children race around my house, rooting through cupboards, raiding the playroom, crawling under beds and finally descend on the kitchen table with their booty.
OH. MY. GOD.
We have enough pistols, axes, hatchets, glow in the dark knifes (from Halloween), shields, rifles and swords to actually call it an arsenal!
And they are all wearing a helmet, a shield and a grimace.
Visitng mummy is also wearing a grimace and all I can think is where the hell did all that stuff come from?
* Originally posted on August 7, 2008.