| Adam and I went to dinner last night at Red Lobster. There was a fifteen minute wait to be seated so I cozied in next to the lobster tank and observed the final, boring moments of their damp lives. In this mild melancholy, I looked up at the entrance of a small family. There was a mother, father and a young son. The boy looked about seven and brandished a small plastic pistol. He jumped around his parents legs and aimed at them mischievously while making those amazing gun noises that only little boys are able to make. His dad played along and grabbed the pistol and holstered it, Clint Eastwood style in his jeans pocket. Then he flipped it out to point at his son. The boy squealed with delight. The mother stood to the side and smiled affectionately at her boys.I was surprised at how affected I was at their harmless play. Adam leaned over to me and commented that we would never let our kids have toy guns. Of course not, I agreed. But we have a girl. What do we know about raising men? Do ... |
