My wife and I went to pick the kids up from creche this afternoon.
The assistant supervisor broached a subject she was clearly uncomfortable with.
“‘J’ has been using some unacceptable speech”, she began “and has been playing aggressively with the other boys”
Tracey and I exchanged worried glances-both of us thinking of what bad words we might have said with the kids in earshot.
“‘J’ has talked about splattering brains and he’s been playing…….wargames“
Relieved as hell, I asked what was wrong with that? I was secretly proud of my three year old son’s vocabulary and imagination.
“Well we have a policy against any kind of aggressive games. War games are a no no.”
“Well”, I replied, “I actually encourage my boy to play with toy guns and swords do heaps of play fighting”
“Yes” my wife added “that sounds pretty PC, we’re about the most unPC family around”.
“Aren’t the boys allowed to play fight and ‘shoot’ each other”, I enquired?
“No” she replied “if they pretend to have guns, we get them to imagine they’re something else”.
“Like a bazooka, you mean, I replied?
Tracey nudged me as she could see the creche staff getting more and more sheepish.
We discussed the issue a bit further and the assistant manager showed me the creche’s directive forbidding aggressive play.
Then ‘J’ and I went outside and “machinegunned” each other in the carpark. Then we drove home where we played “Tigers” in the lounge while Tracey cooked tea.