Power of the Gun

I am an advocate for gun control. Not in the “out loud and preachy” kind of way but I don’t like guns and I don’t think the regular citizen should be able to own one.

Guns cause problems… people!  Just look around at some situations that could have been avoided or minimized if the darn guns were not so readily available.

I know the common argument is that “guns don’t kill people, people kill people”. Yes, but do we have to readily supply the tools that make it easier for someone hell-bent on hurting another human being? At least in a fist fight physical exertion is required and one might get too tired before causing too much irreversible damage. Someone cuts you off in traffic; you will have to chase this person down, get out of the car and throw a fit. Chances are, in this situation, you cool off or keep it to the verbal tantrum.

I also hear the argument, “I have the right to protect myself, what if someone broke into your house?”  What I don’t like about this argument is that is puts us all in a mindset of “you gonna hurt me so I am gonna hurt you back” which I think only creates hostility and detachment. The mindset of perceived violence is already there, and I don’t think it is a good place to be.

Wouldn’t it be better if we all just got along? Please insert flowers and unicorns, maybe an old geezer with the beard and headband. Dude!

 Well, let me kind of step off my soapbox.

We spent the summer in Sweden, re-connecting with mormor, morfar, aunts, uncles and cousins. It was a little bit of heaven.

On the first day of arrival, morfar declared that he was taking the boys to the toy store, and they got to pick one toy each. Morfar might have advanced to super hero status before he finished that sentence.

So we made our way to the local mall, guided by a bright blinking beacon of joy; gently whispering our names.

The choices were many and the angst to make the wrong one was high. Glittering things on the top shelf and noisy vehicles on the bottom shelf were considered and put back, could there be something better in the next aisle?

Then, Oliver spotted the Holy Grail. A cap gun! Like the ones cowboys used to have. It was silver and shiny. And could I really turn him down when it was a gift from beloved morfar? Let’s turn on the Puss n’ Boots eyes just to be safe!

And I gave in. I said yes and I let him walk out of the store with a cap gun wrapped up and glowing in his very own bag. The bag that was carelessly thrown over his shoulder. He was cool and he knew it. And I might have been cool as well; I let him have a gun.

And you know what; he is a five-year-old boy who has turned everything into guns for a while now. Don’t all kids (boys) play with guns at a certain age? Would me depriving him this timeless fascination with guns backfire and turn him into an obsessed teenager and/or adult? If he gets it out of his system now, when it is age appropriate, he will surely grow up to be a well adjusted citizen who just happens to have the best mom in the whole world. Right?

Ground rules were quickly established, the gun stays in morfar’s house and yard, we are not waving a gun in people’s faces, and you just watch what happens with that gun if you fight with your brother!

Morfar did not want him to bring the gun to the communal playground- we don’t know how other people feel about guns and their kids – and I agreed. I am against guns after all!

There are two boys and three girls of Oliver’s age living on morfar’s street. All hanging at the communal playground, knowing each other and playing together every day. And here comes my boys; outsiders trying to fit in and make friends. They were totally shunned by the girls and the boys glared suspiciously, before hopping on their razor scooters heading to someone’s house instead.

This lasted for about two days and no progress was made. I started to resent the little turds for not wanting to be best friends with my angels. I was about to bribe them with cake and gold coins if they at least said hello.

Then Oliver sneaked the cap gun out of the house. Before we caught on he hopped in front of the two boys, waved the gun and yelled: “Upp med händerna!” (“hands up”)

And you know what? Within three seconds, introductions were made, giggles erupted  and alliances formed. They turned into the Three Musketeers for the remainder of our stay – with the smaller sidekick doing his best to keep up. They came calling at the door “can Oliver come out and play?” Oliver was invited over to their houses and two months after we left they still ring the doorbell at morfar’s, asking when Oliver is coming home?

And I am grateful. Grateful for that shiny killing machine. It gave them friends and they had so much fun this summer. Who knew a cap gun held so much power?

I am still against guns. Let me reiterate: the real thing – BAD, the plastic toy – OK if owned by a young child who secretly still thinks Dora is pretty cool. My boys will never own anything more advanced than a cap gun. No machine guns, rifles, AKA’s, or anything looking too much like the real thing. And there are certain places that gun is not allowed. “No Oliver, it is not a good idea to bring your gun to the bank/on the plane/to school!”

 But enjoy that piece of boyhood, go and chase some bad guys, stick up morfar for some expired coins. Have fun and then come back to me so we can read a book together.