"If you stay long enough we might have a battle!"
I was reading the tale of Paul Revere to Shaw and we came to the picture of the The Boston Massacre. "People hurting each other isn't nice," he said.
I agreed that it wasn't.
Then we got to the battle of Lexington and Concord and there was an illustration of a little kid, obviously hurt, lying next to an adult who obviously was concerned about him.
"They shouldn't hurt the kids," he said, "They shouldn't hurt anybody. If they hurt the grown ups," (and here's where I started crying) "who will make the little kids supper at night?"
And, my little pacifist said just last night as we found a Captain Underpants game to play in which two robots kick and punch one another, "This isn't fun. This is bad. I don't want to play this anymore. This is mean." That's cool with me, I just didn't expect my five-year-old little wrestler to be so sensitive. "We'll find something else to play, buddy," I said, and started to try to get out of the game, but the game didn't recognize, of course, that we were no longer playing, and the opposing robot kept kicking the shit out of our robot.
Shaw was quite upset, "Why's he still kicking me? I didn't do anything to him? I didn't hurt him! Why doesn't he just stop it? He's mean!"
If I ever come home to find him out in the street with a bunch of his classmates lying down in front of British troops, I'm going to be really weirded out!
I agreed that it wasn't.
Then we got to the battle of Lexington and Concord and there was an illustration of a little kid, obviously hurt, lying next to an adult who obviously was concerned about him.
"They shouldn't hurt the kids," he said, "They shouldn't hurt anybody. If they hurt the grown ups," (and here's where I started crying) "who will make the little kids supper at night?"
And, my little pacifist said just last night as we found a Captain Underpants game to play in which two robots kick and punch one another, "This isn't fun. This is bad. I don't want to play this anymore. This is mean." That's cool with me, I just didn't expect my five-year-old little wrestler to be so sensitive. "We'll find something else to play, buddy," I said, and started to try to get out of the game, but the game didn't recognize, of course, that we were no longer playing, and the opposing robot kept kicking the shit out of our robot.
Shaw was quite upset, "Why's he still kicking me? I didn't do anything to him? I didn't hurt him! Why doesn't he just stop it? He's mean!"
If I ever come home to find him out in the street with a bunch of his classmates lying down in front of British troops, I'm going to be really weirded out!