For Christmas - yes, I am so far behind in my storytelling that we are still talking about Christmas - Stephen received a 50 dollar gift card to D and B Supply. Not that this is relevant to the story but Stephen loves D and B. He tries to buy everything that he possibly can from D and B. He goes to D and B at least once a week. The clerks there know the names of our children, if that tells you anything. So a 50 dollar gift card to D and B for Stephen is money well spent.

Stephen spent about 2 days considering what he might purchase with his 50 dollar gift card. A new rake handle. An ax. Some irrigating boots. Seeds for the garden. Work gloves. Bacon jerky. No - not bacon jerky but the sky was the limit with 50 dollars to spend. He could have bought so many things. So many things to beautify our yard or maintain our house or feed our bellies come summer. But he didn't.

Nope. Instead he bought the boys a BB gun. You read that right. A gun. He bought my babies a gun! Not that I should actually pretend to care. I am so over all of that. And by all of that I mean any false hope that I would raise children who were uninterested in guns or violence or war or battle or blood or combat or whatever else little boys are drawn to. And also, by children I really mean boys or sons because obviously I don't have daughters.

I believe that my next statement comes from an educated place in both an academic and real world sense - boys and girls are innately different and many (but not all) boys are drawn to physical interaction and destruction. At least in my opinion as a women's studies major and the mother of two sons. Of course, I've been wrong before.

Getting back to BB gun. It's a Daisy Red Rider. The Christmas Story kind, which was fitting for a Christmas gift. The boys love it. Or they did love it. The novelty has already worn off. But that's okay with me because their Free Range father let's them shoot the gun without parental assistance. They've had a gun safety lesson. They have protective eye wear. They have some empty beer cans and some distance guidelines. What more do they need?

I'll tell you what they don't need - an overprotective mother up in their business. It's true. As hard as it is trust Stephen's ability to teach them gun safety and as hard as it is to let my children enjoy a small amount of freedom, I know that it's the right decision.

I am sure that many of you - because many of you are reading my blog, right? - will disagree. How could I possible let two seven-year olds handle a gun without immediate adult supervision? How could I let two seven-year olds handle a gun in the first place? What sort of irresponsible, negligent mother am I?

First, let me remind you that it's just a BB gun. Second, I trust Stephen to instill proper gun safety. Third, I recognize the value in trusting the decisions my children make. Fourth, I am from Idaho. Fifth, not only am I from Idaho but I am just hella cool - ask anyone who knows me. Sixth, the the Zombie Apocalypse is coming. That shit is for real - how many cans of Manwich do you have in your cellar?