Why Boys (and Girls) Need Plastic Guns

Lest you think this is a pro-NRA rant and that I am about to defend deer-hunting, pig-sticking, or moose-clubbing in the wilds (they can party all they want as far as I'm concerned), rest assured that not one of those sentiments shall be expressed here today. What I really need to discuss is the fact that boys -- starting from the moment they can stand on their two wobbly feet, through the first hint of acne -- have been deprived of those good old, made in China, plastic contraptions that resemble the real thing -- the toy pistol -- thus denying them an intrinsic form of role play that is as important as putting a foot or hand to a ball, or engaging in an all out wrestling match.

We happened across a bargain basement in Montreal last week, the kind that is irresistible to kids and thrifty adults alike, and beyond the endless walls of English candy that beckoned like a cup of steaming hot chocolate on a frigid day (keeping the metaphors very proper here), my boys were instantly drawn to a section of toy guns and rifles so alluring that the candy might well have been cement filler.

When we weren't trouping around the Old City, or quaffing bagels, or ice skating in Mount Royal Park in spite of the chill, the boys spent the better part of four days hurtling themselves across the beds, jumping in and out of the two adjoining rooms, hiding behind doorways, in closets, and behind chairs in a wonderfully old-fashioned game of Quantam of Solace meets Jesse James that healthy young chaps with pent-up testosterone once dared to play. What a bloody relief to see them off the computers and playing cat and mouse with gleeful abandon. I resisted that politically correct little whine from somewhere deep within my psyche, wondering if this wasn't going to subvert their normal, passive behavior and turn them into serial mass murderers? What folly, I thought, but confess to taking the extra precaution of hiding the toys deep inside our suitcases while the rooms were cleaned.

It seems that our uptight, self-aggrandizing, politically correct society has completely blurred the distinction between fiction and reality, thanks to a nonstop, media menu of violent programs. The resulting double standard has us moralizing about guns leading to violence, while making a quick buck from the very issue we claim to abhor. Instead, we deal with our fear of real guns and real violence by pulling the imitation away from the kids. It's far easier to suppose that little Jimmy's happy romp with a toy pistol is just one step short of going postal than to actually take on the NRA. No doubt that the odd sociopath might well emerge from time spent with some plastic, but isn't that the law of averages? Just hazarding a guess but it's highly possible, almost certain in fact, that the leap from toy pistol to an Uzi requires a considerable mental disturbance of some kind, and a few other variables such as negligent parenting, rage, and social ostracism, which is also something we should be attending to.

How about we work really hard on barring access to the real thing -- the easily accessible handguns, AK47's, etc. and letting little boys -- I'm making a big distinction here between school children and teen gang members -- act out an age old fantasy that is as much as part of their male chemistry as the hair that will sprout over their young lips?

In your dreams, boys, in your dreams. Meanwhile, go kill some bad guys on your Game Cube and leave me in peace. Can't you see I'm working here?