"Dad, can I have a beebee gun?"
"No, you can't."
"Why not? Mike has a beebee gun."
"I don't care. Beebee guns are dangerous and you can't have one."
This conversation was repeated many times when my son Tony was in fifth grade. I'm usually one who can put his foot down and say "no" but Tony found a soft spot in my defenses. He promised to raise his grades if I got him a beebee gun.
"Well you just missed honor roll the last marking period. If you promise to try harder I'll get you a beebee gun."
"I promise."
So I purchased a beebee handgun and let Tony use it in our newly finished basement. Even though I insisted that he use some sort of backstop I started to find beebees embedded in the drywall. I thought "what he really needs is a huge backstop." So I went and bought three sheets of plywood and attached them together via hinges so that they can be bent at an angle to form a backstop, much like a dressing curtain.
The shooting continues and I start to find embedded beebees nowhere close to the backstop. I warn Tony that unless his aim improves the beebee gun is gone. He makes his usual promise and I let the matter drop.
The next thing I know he has several of his friends over and passes around the beebee gun. They must have had a first class shoot-out because I find beebees in the ceiling tiles, the drywall, in the flourescent light enclosures. I also find that the TV took a glancing hit that took a 1/4 inch chip out of the screen.
Okay, that's it, I confiscate the beebee gun (actual picture shown above). Tony and I now spend some quality time together digging out beebees, spackling the drywall, and collecting hundreds of beebees from the all nooks and crannies of the basement.
Now dear reader you must be saying that I'm a complete fool, and I can't deny it. I wanted some sway over Tony and I thought the beebee gun just might do the trick. Of course Tony did not make the honor roll the next marking period.
Even today, many years later, I come upon a stray beebee that escaped my determined effort to remove all evidence of my folly. And when I do, I hold it up to the light and say to myself, "What was I thinking?"
"No, you can't."
"Why not? Mike has a beebee gun."
"I don't care. Beebee guns are dangerous and you can't have one."
This conversation was repeated many times when my son Tony was in fifth grade. I'm usually one who can put his foot down and say "no" but Tony found a soft spot in my defenses. He promised to raise his grades if I got him a beebee gun.
"Well you just missed honor roll the last marking period. If you promise to try harder I'll get you a beebee gun."
"I promise."
So I purchased a beebee handgun and let Tony use it in our newly finished basement. Even though I insisted that he use some sort of backstop I started to find beebees embedded in the drywall. I thought "what he really needs is a huge backstop." So I went and bought three sheets of plywood and attached them together via hinges so that they can be bent at an angle to form a backstop, much like a dressing curtain.
The shooting continues and I start to find embedded beebees nowhere close to the backstop. I warn Tony that unless his aim improves the beebee gun is gone. He makes his usual promise and I let the matter drop.
The next thing I know he has several of his friends over and passes around the beebee gun. They must have had a first class shoot-out because I find beebees in the ceiling tiles, the drywall, in the flourescent light enclosures. I also find that the TV took a glancing hit that took a 1/4 inch chip out of the screen.
Okay, that's it, I confiscate the beebee gun (actual picture shown above). Tony and I now spend some quality time together digging out beebees, spackling the drywall, and collecting hundreds of beebees from the all nooks and crannies of the basement.
Now dear reader you must be saying that I'm a complete fool, and I can't deny it. I wanted some sway over Tony and I thought the beebee gun just might do the trick. Of course Tony did not make the honor roll the next marking period.
Even today, many years later, I come upon a stray beebee that escaped my determined effort to remove all evidence of my folly. And when I do, I hold it up to the light and say to myself, "What was I thinking?"
I think that Tony has definitely taught us more than we have taught him!
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