Bang! Bang!

Forced to do some triage by unexpected water in our basement, I've been going through bins of old toys and games the kids have enjoyed, outgrown and forgotten. It's been difficult for me to part with some of these treasures - each one holds memories of wonderful times when a single Hot Wheel car or a stuffed bear and its adventures could be the plan for a whole afternoon. A time when my own confidence as a parent was high - without the daily drama and missteps of today's tween and teen years.

Sorting through the toys, a forgotten parenting theme emerged. Examining a small spaceman I thought was broken, I remembered carefully sanding off the weapon in his hand before giving the toy to our son - thinking he would never notice (he did). The tiny black pistols from the Lego police officers "disappeared," and for years we resisted the pull of those enormous Super Soakers - squirt guns shaped like automatic weapons. Instead our kids had pink flamingo and zebra squirters which leaked down the arm and required frequent refilling. I would politely ask David to put his pretend finger gun away and redirect him to another activity. Right or wrong, I hated seeing my kids and their friends pointing weapons at each other or me.

I vividly remember the turning point. At a birthday party several years ago, David received a gigantic Nerf bazooka. As he unwrapped the gift, I thought to myself, "That's going back to Target. Today." Emerging out of a flurry of wrapping paper, the kids ran to the park across the street with some of his new toys. To my surprise, that Nerf gun had already been wrestled out of its packaging and was lifted high over the boys' heads like a trophy. Too late to take it back. Over time, his collection of Nerf guns has grown. On hot summer days, we've all enjoyed giant squirt fights with giant squirters. Currently, his room is overrun with a large and baffling assortment of Warhammer figures and weapons, a tabletop military strategy game he enjoys for hours with friends.

All of these memories run through my mind as I grudgingly purge the basement and consider the kind of parent I have become and the kind of people my children have grown into and will grow into. At some point, all of my parental hopes and dreams for them narrowed to just a handful  - to be kind and happy with faith in a God who loves them and the knowledge that they can make a difference in the world. This has meant clinging hard to some values and letting some other stuff go.  When I watch and listen to them, I give thanks. Most of the time. So far, so good.

Now... if I could just get rid of these cute little beanie babies.