Action Set

They lied to us. Boys and girls are not the same. Society is not to blame for little boys' love of violence and aggression. It runs in their veins, and unless you're blessed with one of those rare, naturally mellow, peace-loving types, trying to convince your little fellow that he'd rather be coloring or having a tea party will only lead to disappointment and a tea-stained blouse.

My children, for example, would rather be pillow fighting, sword fighting, stick fighting, book fighting, or, unfortunately, bodily fluid fighting than doing something sane or productive. Keeping them from fighting is a full time job. And yet they love each other and thoroughly enjoy their (painful) time together. For example, I once came upon my boys standing, shirtless, in the playroom. They each held one of the 3 foot long swords...er...bubblewands Baba had given them and each of their torsos was covered in long, thin welts. The good news? They were taking turns. Seeing their little faces, scrunched up in fear and pain as they were hit, open into broad smiles of pure and utter joy once it was their turn to do the hitting was, weirdly, cute. But it really drove home the point that boys and girls are not the same creature. I will never completely understand my kids. Bill, on the other hand, was unfazed by this game, and even seemed a little proud.

Since I've had little luck preventing them from fighting, I figure I can try to arm them with less dangerous weapons. But even this proves challenging. Last spring, in a case of blatant bribery, I told Charlie he could pick out any toy at the toy store (aka dollar store) if he got a vaccination. He took the shot like a champ and I was feeling pretty smart as we happily approached an aisle full of crayons, stuffed animals, books, costumes, and other appropriate toys. But, of course, Charlie reached through the curtain of toys, rustled around a bit, and pulled out a hatchet. Sure, it was plastic, but it was sharp. And it instantly conjured up images of Jimmy's tender little neck. "Sorry, honey" I said, surveying the rest of the toy selection and confirming there were no other weapons. "This is too dangerous. You can pick anything else." Again Charlie's hand went into the wall of toys for normal children, and again it emerged with something totally inappropriate.

His new selection was labeled "Action Set!" in large, menacing letters, and priced at .99, it was quite the bargain. The set included a smaller version of the hatchet, a dagger, a pistol, handcuffs, a blindfold, and rope. So many thoughts circled in my head, I was left momentarily speechless. Who would make this toy? Who would sell this toy? Who would buy this toy? How could all these...items...cost just 99 cents? When the designer pitched the idea for this toy, did he explain it was a sort of murder kit, but, you know, for children? Did someone else, someone much more tactful and diplomatic, suggest they name it "Action Set!", so as not to put off parents? Finally, Charlie and I left with a slightly less dangerous grasping claw-thingy, and I spent the rest of the day with a sinking feeling about my ability to keep my kids happy with pillow fighting once they realize that for a measly dollar they can purchase an action set of their own.