FYI – I don’t like gun-play, but I won’t stop it if A) it’s with totally imaginary guns or if it’s a toy gun which belongs to another person and B) is not aimed at another person. Despite this, somehow a gun found its way into the Playmobil bin…
My Son: Can you put this gun in his hand?
Me: Oh, no, baby. We don’t play with guns.
My Son: But he does.
Me: Heh. Right. But YOU don’t. I don’t like you to play with guns, they hurt people.
My Son: But HIS mommy says he CAN play with guns.
(We go through this part a few more times because, clearly, I am too stupid to understand the difference here.)
Me: Why does he need a gun?
My Son: For the bad guys.
Me: Who are the bad guys?
My Son: (pause) They’re bad.
Me: What do they do that’s bad?
My Son: (pause) Bad things. So YOU put this gun IN HIS HAND. Right now!
My Son: Can you put this lady on the horse?
Me: Hrm. This lady has an awfully hairy chest. Are you sure she’s a lady? Or a man?
My Son: (pauses to consider this)
My Son: (confidently) A lady.