This is the age that was always such a hoot for me. I felt my first son was very mature for his age. He was always such a good boy, and so responsible. So thinking I knew my son well enough I let him have a BB GUN!!!!!!! Well, I thought he was responsible and mature. One day my young son came in the house complaining that his stomach was hurting. So I decided to investigate. He had little round bruises on his belly. I inquired as to what had happened and it seemed that my son, ‘Al Capone’ reincarnate had asked his younger brother to please hold a target (a plastic kool-whip bowl) directly in front of him so that he could practice shooting. Well like all younger siblings who trust so completely and honestly, he did as was requested. I didn’t know who was dumber at that moment. The gun disappeared. If that wasn’t enough he soon learned how to use the staple gun. He did not believe that it could actually shoot out with enough force to stick in someone’s head. So he tried it and now my son doesn’t have to worry about parting his hair, because it is stapled into place.
It was about this time that my sons would go into the bathroom and stay for an hour. I always wondered what they could possibly find to do for that long. I would ask, "What are you doing; keeping a daily log? If you are then leave it in there." I’d snicker because I knew what was coming. "Mom! That is so gross!"
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