Mommy Wars

Sometimes I start a blog and then I’m not exactly clear where it’s going and I end up shelving it for three weeks… or three years.

I just dug-up the following, which it looks like I started back in 2011.  I said don’t judge!

Spring 2011 (Jacob, age two-and-change):

Maybe six months ago, there was a new little boy at school who taught JJ about shooting.  Out of nowhere, anytime we told Jake something he didn’t want to hear, we were in his sights.  Blocks, toys, pointer fingers… just about everything can be transformed into a weapon to point at said offending authority.

Then in January, a certain uncle gave his two-year-old nephew a life-size toy rifle that shoots straws.  I’m not sure the future of Baby Nathaniel’s eyesight was considered.  As of a week ago, he called it a shooter.

“Mama, where is my shooter?  That Uncle Geoff gave me?”  Now Mama is the Bad Guy.

As of this week, he’s learned the “g” word.  Tonight he says to me over dinner, “Mama, I love guns.”

“No, you don’t love guns.  Shooting things is not nice.”

“Yes, Mama.  I love guns and rabbits.”

“Guns and rabbits?”

“Yes, guns and rabbits.”

OK Elmer.