Your Dad Taught You WHAT?!

Recently, when Jimmy and N came home from spending an afternoon on a friend's farm, they showed me a picture of N that Jimmy had taken. In the picture, N was standing outside, wearing her ear muffs as well as Jimmy's sound proof head phones that he wears for work. Next to her was a rifle. Which she was holding, upright, with one hand. As I stared at the picture of my six-year-old holding a gun, Jimmy and N excitedly informed me that N, under her father's watchful and experienced eye and with adequate ear protection, had not just held the rifle, but had also shot it.

Although my initial reaction was to go postal  ask Jimmy if he really thought it was appropriate for a six-year-old to shoot a gun, something told me to keep my mouth shut long enough to process this incident (this in itself is quite an accomplishment for me. Truly). Mentally, I reserved the right to go postal have an in-depth discussion later, if I still felt the need. Let me say, I am not anti-gun. Not at all. But I never really thought that my six-year-old would be shooting one, and I can say with complete certainty that I would never have allowed her to shoot a gun at six. Or sixteen. Or, in all likelihood, twenty-six. Unless, at twenty-six, she becomes a police officer and it's necessary for her job. And, really, shouldn't Jimmy have asked for my opinion before he let our six-year-old shoot an actual gun? Guns are dangerous. They kill people. Yes, they also help people defend themselves. And they help people get food. I have no problem with these things in theory. But this is my six-year-old. Children and guns are not a good combination.

As I continued to process my strong reaction to this, I told N just how dangerous guns could be, and that she was never, ever to touch one unless daddy was right there and told her it was okay, and that they were never, ever toys, and that you never knew if they were loaded or not, because even if you thought they weren't loaded, they could be. And that if anyone ever tried to show her a gun, she should leave, no matter what, and get an adult right away. I tried to think if I had covered everything. I mean, if my daughter is shooting guns, she needs to know all of this, right? N was just staring at me, nodding, as she said "Mom, I know all of that already. Dad told me." Oh. Right. Of course he did. I mean, of course he wouldn't let his six year-old daughter shoot a gun without telling her these things. And then she said, "I really wanted to shoot it again, but daddy said we had to go". Great. She's not only shooting guns. She likes it.

In spite of this realization, my reservations had started to fade somewhat. I wouldn't have allowed her to shoot a gun, because as her mom, my job is to keep her safe, and nurture her, and maintain my sanity, the last of which I would have been unable to do if I had to watch my six-year-old with a gun. But maybe a dad's job, while it certainly includes those same things, is slightly different. Maybe part of his job is to teach her that she can shoot a gun, just like he's taught her that she can catch a fish, and hammer a nail, and belch really, really loudly. Of course moms can teach those things, too, but in our house, well, we'll just say that none of those things are really my strong point. So no, I still wouldn't have let her shoot a gun. But maybe this is just one of those differences between mothers and fathers that is just, well, different. If Jimmy had asked my opinion, I would have told him, without a doubt, that he had better keep my child away from any and all guns at all times. Which is probably why he didn't ask me.

This morning, B had put his Spiderman mask from Halloween on one of N's dolls. He handed Jimmy a teddy bear as he hopped up next to him at the kitchen counter. B made the doll and the teddy bear talk to each other for a minute, and then he had the doll lean over and give the teddy bear a kiss. A KISS! I know this may surprise you, but that is not how B usually plays. Typically, he would have the doll kick the teddy bear in the head, have the teddy bear announce to the doll that he was going to smack her now, or maybe have the doll tell the teddy bear to get out of her way and go back to wherever it is teddy bears come from. So when I saw him make the doll give the teddy bear a kiss, I was elated, and my thinking went something like this: Finally! A breakthrough! He's getting in touch with his sensitive side! Maybe he won't get kicked out of pre-school (if he ever goes) for aggressive tendencies! Maybe he's not destined to a life of social isolation as an adult! Maybe he will not be living in our basement when he's forty! Thank You God!

Meanwhile, Jimmy's response went something like this: Give me that doll! (Body slams teddy with doll). Take that, teddy bear! Boom! (Has Teddy kick doll in head). Pow! (has doll punch teddy several times). Game over!

Really? We wonder why B has aggressive tendencies? Huh. Wonder where he gets it. I told Jimmy that B had just been getting in touch with his tender and sensitive side, and he took him right back to violence and aggression. Jimmy looked at me, nodded, and said, "Yup. Sure did. Right where he belongs."

Maybe this is another one of those things that a dad is, for some reason which is completely unknown to me, supposed to teach his children. If it was up to me, they would all play nicely and quietly with nothing even resembling a gun or violence (yes, I realize this does not even remotely come close to resembling my reality. Please. Allow me my fantasy). If it was up to Jimmy, I'm pretty sure they would all be using the teddy bear and the doll for target practice in the back yard. At midnight. While eating pork rinds. I can only hope that, somewhere along the line, we balance each other out.

When N was telling me about shooting the gun with Jimmy, she suddenly stopped and said "Oh! You know what else I did, mom?" I was kind of afraid to ask, but she told me anyway. "I peed outside! I couldn't go at first, but dad just told me to wait a minute and then I peed. Right outside!".  I realized that I was going to have to process my emotions about this, as well.

I had really hoped I'd be the one to teach her that.

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