Katie: Guns, Parenting and Risk: Do You Let Your Child Visit Homes With Firearms?

Life is risky. Katie wonders if they ask about pools, chemicals, and hot tubs.

A lot of gun owners stay in the closet and don’t admit they own guns, depending on the area where you are. Here, I pretty much presume that most households have guns. And I choose to educate my kids on guns. My kids know that any time they want to shoot a gun, just ask. And I’ll take them. It eliminates the curiosity if they can do it when they want. And, of course, they know the rules.

Prior to Junior’s first shots:

From Kids

Jay has a list of items that, really, no longer exist. I’d add commercials to things our kids may not know about. Junior was three before she ever saw a commercial.

Well, OK, actually they banned 100 watt bulbs. Which power Easy Bake Ovens. Speaking of, last night me and Junior used her new Easy Bake Oven to make some cookies. They were as good anything I’ve ever cooked with a light bulb.

If you’re a parent and you don’t have a supply of 100w incandescent bulbs, you’ll need one for the oven. It doesn’t come with one. And congress banned their sale. Fortunately, we managed to store up some pre-ban light bulbs.

Up in the middle of the night. Sneaking around. No, I wasn’t trying to see the eclipse because it was dark. I was trying to steal a tooth and replace it with a $5 bill. Junior managed to lose her tooth in the most unceremonious way. She was at gymnastics, went to the bathroom, and came out and said ‘here’. And she had her tooth in her hand. No blood. No crying. No drama.

I sneak into her room and slide my hand under the pillow. Grab the bag the tooth is in and she stirs. So I hightailed it out of there. Had to wait a few minutes sneak back in with the five spot. She can be a light-sleeper.

Les Jones ponders chores reasonable for kids aged 4 and 6. Since I have kids that age, I figure I’ll chime in some. We have our kids do the three that Les mentioned. I also have the kids help unload the car after trips. Have them carry their own bags in, for example. Any mess they make, I make them clean. I make certain they clean the sink after they brush their teeth, for instance.

Other things I’ve had them do include:

Rake leaves
Pick veggies from the garden
Help me wash the cars, they get tire duty
Wipe up the water they leave in the bathroom floor after they shower
Carry in groceries

Junior actually volunteers to clean the windows.

Last night, Junior discovered she had her first loose tooth. She doesn’t appreciate Dad telling her the various ways to pull them out. But I’m thinking something like this:

Man, where did the time go?

Off to a slow start. I think the amount of time it took the kids to get dressed in their snow gear was more than the amount of time actually spent playing in the snow. Well, more like snow-colored grass.

Junior with the Zel Custom .50 Caliber:

From Kids

This pic of the N Strike reminded me. My nephew (pictured below with the suppressor) showed me one of his Nerf pistols. It’s identical to one of the nerf guns my kids have. Except that when I fired it, it had a range about 6 times greater than ours and it shot in a straight line. Ours have substantial drop and you have to aim about 5 feet high to hit something 15 feet away. Not his, it zipped along.

He explains to me that he modded it. Turns out, you can replace the springs in it with springs you get at Lowe’s. The also come with a power restricting dampener, that he had removed. And he used duct tape to make the air chamber smaller.

I was so proud. A future gun nut. But I knew that already.

The family and some friends went to The Outback Steakhouse a bit back. Junior and her friend both had to go to the bathroom. And then my son did too. So I head to the restroom area with the kids and, of course, the girls beat me there. I arrive to find them staring at the two bathrooms. See, at Outback, the restrooms are not labeled men and women as the girls are accustomed to reading. They are labeled Blokes and Sheilas and the girls had no idea what that meant. I point them in the right direction and Junior’s friend looks at me and says Is that Spanish?

Heh.

The wife got a Droid Incredible which she likes. It befuddles me because two weeks ago she couldn’t even answer my Droid when it rang and now she can’t live without hers. Kids are really into various games on our phones so I’ve been thinking about getting them an android tablet PC or maybe buying someone’s old phone that they don’t use anymore and using it with the wifi. This android tablet looks OK. Anyone have any experience with either of these plans?

For Halloween, the grandparents gave the kids some nice little holiday cards. And they put some money in them.

For my birthday Friday, the kids made a me a couple of cards. It’s always fun to hear their explanations for why they put a certain sticker or doodle on the card. And they always make me smile. A bit after giving me the cards they made, Junior comes walking up to me later with her hands behind her back. She pulls out something from behind her back and hands it to me. It’s the card that the grandparents gave her. Except that she’s scratched out her name and wrote my name there, addressing it to me. And in the card is the $20 she got from the grandparents, which she said that it was the best present ever. I had to agree. She gave me what was the most important thing to her that day. I kinda teared up a little.

I told her I had my eye on a new DS game so maybe she could go with me and we’d spend my money on that. She said it was a good idea then gave me a coupon for a free ice cream, another gift she values immensely.

Later, me and the wife had a good laugh about it, she pointed out that the grandparents only gave the kids $10 each. So Junior had taken her brothers money and given it to me too.

Still, it’s the thought that counts.

It’s kinda interesting living in an age where your daughter’s quiz grades are emailed to you. She’s scored 100% on her last three accelerated reader tests. So, go her.

And, the other night, she was playing Angry Birds on my droid. She comes up to me and says Daddy, I can’t get it to work. She shows me the screen. Somehow she had installed a speed dating application on it. Gotta watch those ads, I guess.

Me: Your son is writing his name on the steamed up shower door.

Wife: Aw, how cute

Me: With his wiener.

Bad words. Our kids are learning them. Fortunately, they’re limited to words that, while bad for kids, aren’t really all that bad. I mean, they could use words like I do and that would be (and has been) bad. But the kids, and especially my four-year-old son, just sort of arbitrarily blurt out words like butt, poop, and some words that, to me, make no sense but given the context I can figure out what they mean. Like tee-tee. And it’s weird to me because he doesn’t always really use the words in context or a sentence. He’s just kinda sitting there and then says fart and laughs. It’s not like he farted or anyone else did. He just felt like saying fart.

Anyway, I’ve told the kids to watch their mouths. I told Junior she needed to get her language under control or she would get in trouble. She says to me What if I accidentally say a bad word?. And I ask her how she could possibly say a bad word accidentally. She says Well, if I say shampoo, then I’ve said poo.

I guess you can’t argue with that.

Got Junior out of the shower and then put The Second in the tub. I was sitting around when my wife walks in and says: You need to talk to your son. He has a question about his balls.

I sat there for a moment pondering what exactly a four year old could ask about his junk. And I settled on things like: What are they for? Why are they fun to play with? Why does it hurt when I get hit in them?

You know, typical ball stuff. Because, frankly, I had no idea what he was about to ask.

I walk in to the bathroom and he’s in the tub checking himself out. And I say Your mom said you had a question about your dudes? Then, he does something that if I did would cause me to lose the ability to walk for a few minutes. With a firm grip, he asks me Why they have “cracks” in them? I tell him that those are veins and blood vessels. I show him that he has the same on his arms. And explain blood flow as best I can to a four year old. He seems satisfied with that answer.

Then he asks why they feel like grapes.

I have no idea.

With kids, you mentally prepare for something, and it never goes the way you prepare for.

With kids, the magic comes and goes.

Wednesday morning, my son was throwing up. The night before, we went through the usual fight about him not wanting dinner that we made and instead wanting something else that had more sugar in it. I put my foot down and he went to bed without dinner, though he could have had all the lasagna he wanted but not poptarts. He threw up a few times that morning and I wasn’t going to send him to school like that. So, I stayed home with him. And scheduled a pediatrician’s appointment.

He sat on the couch watching TV and drinking Sprite to settle his stomach. He sat there for about four hours. He finally got hungry and asked for Froot Loops. Having felt bad because he was sick and hadn’t eaten the night before, I gave in and let him have some. And I let him have another bowl. We get to the doctor’s office where they run tests and whatnot. The doc comes back, alarmed, and says that my son’s blood sugar is “over 300″. And they think he may have diabetes. I inform the doc that he had the Froot Loops so that was probably it. My son chimed in to say that, when I wasn’t looking, he snuck a cereal bar or maybe two. And, of course, the Sprite. Still, wanting to be safe rather than sorry, follow up tests were scheduled, as was a trip to an endocrinologist.

Just a bit ago, I got the final word that he does not have diabetes. His spike was caused by a combo of not eating dinner the night before, dehydration from vomiting, and a diet consisting almost entirely of sugary products because I felt sorry for him.

Several doctor visits, tests, vials of blood, screaming, and hundreds of dollars later, it’s because of poorly timed Froot Loops. The moral is no more FrootLoops before doctor appointments.

Half are playing the most intense game ever. 40% are staring at their feet or the sky. And one is licking the goal post.

Junior to The Second:

Like dad says, life is short and hard like a bodybuilding elf.

My kids read some, but small words, mostly, and words that they’re exposed to in school or by us. I’m not used to having kids around that can read longer words. Had my nephews (who are ten and can read longer words) this weekend and we we had fun shooting and cooking. I had to run out and they wanted to tag a long. In my car, the iPod connects directly to the stereo and displays song title and artist name and stuff.

One of my nephews looks at the stereo then at me and says What’s a Butthole Surfer?

Got to be more mindful. And not the first time I’ve had issues with the nephews and music.

Hanging with the nephews:

From Kids

And look at that form. Todd Jarrett Kung Fu grip and all. Not bad for a nine year old.

The wife:

I love how I buy Spam Light and you cook it in bacon fat.

I was driving somewhere the other day with my son in the car (he’s four). I didn’t know the location and typed it into the GPS. I’d never used it with him in the car before. He stared intently, realizing that it was a map of where we were, the roads, and where we were going. For the whole 20 minute trip, he was enthralled with it. Finally, he asked me Daddy, why aren’t the other cars on there?

And I laughed.

Then I wondered exactly what percentage of cars actually have GPS systems? I’d say quite a few. And if the GPS systems transmit as well as receive? Mine transmits since it’s a Droid. Then it occurred to me that if cars with GPS systems transmitted their location, then someone could use that information for live traffic reporting. A bunch of GPS systems in one spot would indicate a problem.

Technology is kinda scary.

We have this partially wrought iron bench. It had turned green from age, I suppose it’s rust. Earlier this year, I tried to get it back to it’s original color. Despite a lot of effort, I didn’t make much progress. Then, the other day, the kids had an epic silly string battle. Some collateral damage to the bench:

From Home Life

See how it’s clean where the silly string landed? So, silly string can restore iron. Who knew?

My little girl’s growing up.

In the car, I have an iPod that feeds the stereo system. I keep a couple of playlists of kids’ songs for when they’re in the car. This weekend was kinda depressing. Junior was telling me which of her new songs she wanted in the car and that she didn’t want some of the old songs anymore.

I replaced Animaniacs, Jack’s Big Music Show, and They Might Be Giants with Justin Bieber, Hannah Montana, Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga.

*sigh*

Junior is registering for first grade today.

My kids would love that.

Seems about once every year or so some blogger mentions the end of men, real men, manly men or whatever. Or talks about the pussification of men. Men and women both do this. The former do it in a woe is me sort of way that other men aren’t manly like they remember men being. And the latter tend to do so lamenting they can’t seem to find a real man or how equality ain’t all it’s cracked up to be and, gosh darn it, they want a cowboy to sweep them off their feet. Yet, all they run into are best buds who take them shopping.

The latest one I’ve run across is this piece, wherein our heroine asserts she may have married the last manly man. A new twist on an old classic. And I can sympathize.

Except that it’s nonsense. Manly men, real men, etc. are everywhere. They’re out working in their yard now; at the office; working on a car; playing with kids; teaching a dog to fetch a beer; getting manicures; or where ever else. Yeah, that’s right. Getting manicures. A lot of folks seem to think there are certain lists of specific behaviors that indicate what is and isn’t a real man. That’s also ludicrous. Personal grooming preferences make you no less a manly man than drinking beer, farting and scratching your ass make you more of a man. Real men are still there but perceptions have changed. Social roles have changed. Men may or may not be the primary breadwinner and that doesn’t make them more or less a man. And men now take a far more active role in childcare. Hell, that definitely makes them more of a man. Being a real man or manly man is more about stepping up or down when you have to.

Also, social perceptions of the ideal man have changed. We’re quick to jump and say that this person is or isn’t a real man. Even though that man is portrayed as a sex symbol in popular culture. Before, it was rough and tumble men of action. Now, it’s men of action who wear nice clothes and get manicures. There’s not a man I know that hasn’t looked at a trailer for one of the Twilight movies and laughed at the feminine male vampire lead. But none of us have met Robert Pattinson and don’t know if he’s a real man or not. Meanwhile, soccer moms are acting like the hyper tweens they were when they attended that New Kids on the Block concert in high school.

I do agree with the author that a lot of the issues with men these days are the result of the death of manners. It costs nothing to be polite. Take your hat off. Open the door for a woman. And ladies first. But I think the death of manners is because people don’t get their asses kicked any more. That is, folks don’t encounter one of these manly men for guidance that often. A good friend of mine has a son older than both my kids. His son is into sports and as rough and tumble as they get. But he opens the door for my little girl, lets her go first, and offers her the first juice box. He’ll be a manly man. His dad has done well.

Via Glenn.

I have two twin nephews and they are completely different in personality. One is more literal, hands on, and practical. And the other is a bit more figurative, creative and imaginative. Anyway, I have a minor blemish that requires a band-aid on my neck. Our family met their family for dinner the other night and one of my nephews asks what happened to my neck. And I say zombie bite. My literal nephew says No, really. What happened? My more imaginative nephew asks Can I see the zombie bite?