During a recent family outing to the mountains, my husband decided that each of our kids could choose one toy. Naturally, I was opposed to this idea, as I generally dislike bringing more clutter into our home, which ultimately results in more cleaning for me.
As I meandered through the hiking gear section, blissfully selecting new pants and a shirt, I was blissfully unaware of the toys my husband allowed the kids to pick out. One chose a flashy plastic truck that zoomed around while blasting loud music. Another picked a truck with a dinosaur emerging from it, which everyone else found thrilling, while I saw it as a bizarre twist in reality. But the real shocker came when my eldest son made his choice.
I stood, mouth agape, in the middle of the store aisle, trying to figure out how to express my disapproval to my husband without the kids catching on. “But Mama said I couldn’t have arrows anymore,” my son Oliver protested.
“That’s because the last time you had something like a projectile weapon, you shot your brother in the eye,” I reminded him.
“It wasn’t the eye,” he retorted, foam-tipped bow and arrow slung at his side. “It was close.”
“That bruise lasted for days,” I shot back.
Meanwhile, my middle child sniffled dramatically, clutching his dinosaur truck, while our youngest rolled his truck against a display of baseball bats, oblivious to the chaos. The guitar riffs from the toy truck blared in the background.
“Well, he promised he wouldn’t shoot it at anyone,” my husband said, holding up a box that read “Inflatable Boar.” “He’s going to shoot at this.”
“Oh my goodness,” I thought, biting my tongue just in time. “You’re really getting him a bow and arrows along with a—how large is that thing? Three feet long?—inflatable boar? Just so we’re clear. You’ve been living in the South too long.”
“He’s 7,” my husband stated, as if that was a sufficient explanation.
And so I learned that some decisions are beyond a mother’s control. They took the bow and arrows, along with the inflatable boar, to the mountains. The moment they arrived, they unpacked everything and dashed outside to use the boar as their target.
The kids spent their time outdoors, with only Oliver shooting the bow since, at 7, he was deemed responsible enough for projectile toys. He aimed at the boar, an object that was indeed a boar, complete with inflatable tusks and a rather awkwardly placed lump. I found its design somewhat questionable, but Oliver adored his new toys.
Shooting the boar became a serious endeavor for him—he didn’t involve anyone else in his play. I realized those days when he would interrupt me with books or toys were gone. Now, he reads independently, builds complex Lego sets, and finds joy in his outdoor adventures, including targeting an anatomically correct inflatable boar with his bow and arrow.
This boar-hunting, fart-laughing, and adventurous boy was no longer my baby. He was growing up, and while I missed the days of his toddler years, I couldn’t help but appreciate the wonder and excitement he found in his new pursuits. Especially when he wrapped his arms around me and said, “I love you, Mom.”
In summary, allowing kids to explore new hobbies, like archery, can be beneficial for their development. While it might initially seem odd, gifting them with a bow and arrow—and an inflatable target—can encourage creativity and independence. For more insights on parenting and family life, check out our other blog posts on home insemination kit, where we discuss various aspects of family planning.