Boys and Their Guns

Forget about bugs and introduce more boo boos than I can even imagine.  Or not. 
Each of my sons has his own jackknife.  They carve sticks with them.  They are kept well out of reach, unless the husband is around to oversee the carving operation.  I can't watch them because it makes me nervous, which, in turn, makes them nervous.  They have each cut themselves once.  I am very okay with giving my children tools, teaching them how to use them and letting them use them.  They each have their own hammer and box of nails - real wood and metal hammers and a real box of sharp 2" galvanized nails.  There are specific areas where they are allowed to hammer in nails.  They are readily accessible whenever they are outside and would like to use them. 
The husband played paintball this weekend.  Here comes the question..."Mom, when can I play paintball?" 
I pointed to the large red and bloodied boo boo on the husband's arm -"See that?  When you think you can get hit, bleed and not cry about it."
Oh.  Never mind.
Yesterday was Odin's birthday.  The husband asks, "How would you feel if I let the boys shoot off rounds with the paintball gun?"
Deep breath.
Sigh.
"There can only be one gun loaded, they shoot at a target in wood pile and you are right there with your hand on the gun at any given moment."
"Yes, dear."
Deep breath.


It was required to wear a mask.  The husband isn't all fun and games, thankfully.




The birthday boy in a fabulous mask created by the husband.




The husband is prepared to defend our actions if DSS should come knocking on our door.

 I have to admit, it was fun watching the boys' little bodies take the kick of the guns and say, "woah!" and laugh.  Wait, they said, "woah" and laughed, not me. 
It's times like these that I am grateful that we live in the woods.