Looking Down the Barrel of Language: Locked and Loaded
One boy, big for four years old, kept sticking his grabby fingers in the pile of Legos, hoarding them so his tower would be taller than the littler boy sitting at the same table. “That’s mine. I get the blue ones.” He made up the rules as the play unfolded. As if to confirm his authority he made eye contact with the little guy when he announced a new wrinkle in his legal system.
For many minutes the big guy was king of the roost until disaster struck.
He had a come to Jesus moment when his four-year-old little guy playmate held up a gun.
***
***
Minutes earlier, the play had been mildly contentious, but nothing outrageous.
Perched on kiddy chairs in a classroom, the boys were supposed to share the blocks, they knew the rules, and to the casual observer, it might have seemed as if they were sharing. The struggle for resources had been subdued, but the adult caregiver was aware. She knew everything going on in the room, I later learned.
The bigger boy tried to dominate when he saw an easy opportunity, like when the caregiver was talking with another child, cleaning up a mess, or unlocking the bathroom door for a child in need. He was pretty savvy as a big general contractor. Still, she knew.
***
The bigger boy started talking to his animals as I watched from a safe distance, an ethnographic fly on the wall with a tape recorder and a steno notebook. I heard him directing them like a military commander issuing orders to troops. Near the common pile of blocks in waiting was a plastic container of miscellaneous rubber toys—lions, police, soldiers, carts, cars, horses. He picked up his lion in one hand, his alligator in another.
“Don’t bite him! He’s on our side. Bite him!” he said, jamming the alligator into the lion, growling under his breath. His eyes were fixed on the violent struggle inside his imaginary fence on the table top. Apparently unbeknownst to the big guy engaged in his war, the little guy had paused his own play and was quietly watching, a toddler’s form of eavesdropping on private matters.
Tentatively, he worked his much littler hand across the table toward the common pile while the big guy was engaged with this fight between his rubber animals.
***
“No!” the big guy said, suddenly, urgently, dropping his animals. “Don’t take that! That’s mine!”
“No it’s not,” the little boy said in a spooky, small whisper, his eyes focused on a red plastic steeple designed to top off a tower like a star on a Christmas tree clutched in his fingers. There was but one red steeple. The little guy wanted to attach the scarce, specialized, prized block on his tower.
“It’s mine! Give it back or I’m telling teacher!”
Little guy tossed the steeple back in the common pile.
***
***
She walked over to the table, scoping out the terrain before intervening. Both boys were sweet kids, and she kept them in line, but they weren’t the most compliant. She’d considered separating them, she told me later, but decided to give them the chance to learn how to cooperate.
“Is everything ok?” she asked. “Lennie?”
“I don’t like it,” Lennie, the bigger boy, said.
“And what don’t you like?”
“He takes everything,” Lennie said.
***
George, the littler boy, looked at his teacher and slowly shook his head.
“Do not,” he said. “He does.”
She stood back and made a show of studying each tower.
“Here’s what I see,” she said. “Lennie, you’ve got way more blocks than George. Should we count them?”
George, more accomplished at counting than Lennie, began pointing his index finger and counting the pieces in his tower.
“One, two, three…”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Lennie said.
***
Lennie returned to the table, climbed on his chair, and resumed his play. Soon enough he saw the red steeple atop George’s tower. He got down from his chair, walked over, and reached for the red piece. That’s was George’s breaking point.
“I have a gun,” George said, matter of factly.
“You can’t have a gun!”
“I have a gun.”
“You can’t have a gun! It’s against the rules!”
The little guy stretched out his arm, his index finger forming the barrel, his thumb the hammer, cocked and loaded.
“I have a gun and I’m going to shoot you.”
“Teacher, George has a gun! George has a gun!”
***
***
Output quoted from ChatGPT4, January 3, 2024
Smith4: The topic of children pretending to play with guns is a complex and nuanced one. Attitudes towards this type of play vary widely among parents, educators, and experts in child development. Here are some points to consider:
1. **Child Development Perspective**: Some developmental psychologists believe that pretend play, including playing with imaginary guns, is a normal part of childhood that can help children process their experiences and understand the world around them. This type of play can also be an outlet for energy and emotions.
2. **Cultural Context**: Attitudes towards pretend gun play may differ depending on cultural norms and values. In some societies, such play may be seen as harmless, while in others it may be discouraged due to associations with violence.
3. **Parental Guidance**: Many experts suggest that parental guidance is key when children engage in any form of pretend play. This includes discussing the difference between reality and fantasy, teaching empathy, and setting guidelines for safe and appropriate play.
4. **Non-violent Alternatives**: Some educators and parents encourage children to engage in non-violent forms of play and provide alternative toys and activities that promote creativity, problem-solving, and social skills without simulating weapons or aggression.
5. **School Policies**: Many schools have policies against bringing toy guns to school or using fingers as pretend guns during play, in order to maintain a safe and non-threatening environment for all students.
In the end, whether it is appropriate or not depends on individual beliefs and the context in which the play occurs. It is an ongoing conversation, and many strive to strike a balance that respects children's needs for imaginative play while also considering the messages sent about violence and safety.