A member of a message board recently asked about boys and weapon play. It reminded me of the post on that topic I made a few years ago on my old More Jo blog:
Weapon Play
I was not going to allow pretend guns for my child. Never. Of course, when my first pregnancy test came up with 2 lines, I was still a raging feminist. Convinced, I was, that gender was nurture.
My (veteran of foreign war) (ex) DH humored me. We compromised. I told my DH that I would not “freak out” if my son wanted to make weapons out of sticks (as my DH assured me he would want to do). I also relented; I would not prohibit my son from playing with boys who wanted to use pretend weapons.
I was certain, though, and smug. With my unisex, gender neutral environment, my son would surely prefer making a diorama to raging war.
Then, at an (unenlightened) friend’s house, my son got his chubby little preschool hands on a pretend gun. And played with an edge that was palpable and weird and icky. In that moment, I knew I needed to either *completely* ban weapon play or *completely* allow it. The next day, I honored that mother’s voice. We went to Toys R Us and got our first pretend gun.
My son played with it exclusively for 2 days. And then it became a proportionately appropriate prop to help kill the deer, find the bad guy and process the heady subjects of power, control, war, peace, good and evil.
I watched that son (now 8), his friend (6) and my youngest (4.5) play with pretend weapons today. They played a wonderful, imaginative, creative and complex game in the backyard.
I’ve come to see weapon play (and guns are certainly not the only or even best way to provide it) as a *need*. I’ve come to see my uneasiness with it as both a gender, and adult, a controlling and a non issue. My son(s) do not bring to weapon play the baggage I do. And, they don’t emerge from weapon play with the attitude I feared (and felt certain) they would.
In my home, you’ll find a variety of toys that help my children move, think, play, dream and thrive.
I, too, did not intend to allow weapons play. That lasted about as long as it took for my then under-two year old to pick up a stick and say “bang!”
I think it’s hard-wired into the DNA