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Home > Blogs > Adventures in Motherhood > Archives > 2008 > August > 07 > Entry
Airsoft gun safety revisited
(This entry is alternately titled, “Mom caves.”)
On our recent trip to France, I got tripped up by a boy and his gun.
Much to my 12-year-old son’s frustration, I have previously discouraged him from buying an airsoft gun. I even blogged about it last year. (Click here to read my musings and the thoughtful reader comments that followed.)
I tried to quench his desire to discharge a weapon by having him head to the paintball range with his dad. He’s been there three or four times so far and loved every minute. He even found a way to turn his newfound hobby into a science fair project, demonstrating the effect barrel length has on a paintball gun’s accuracy. (The project actually turned out quite well and earned him top marks.) On one trip he took along two friends to celebrate his 12th birthday. He got a paintball gun as a present from one of his buddies. It was the highlight of his life up to that point.
It’s a year later. I’m older and he’s wiser. This summer he acquired his first cell phone and his first airsoft gun, both major coups on his part.
The cell phone came after much discussion about responsibility and maturity. But the airsoft gun came on the scene in an unexpected way: It was a prize my son won at a carnival booth at the St. Jean de Luz Festival after he plunked down his 5 euros, picked up a pellet gun and proceeded to pick off five moving balloon targets with four shots.
I hate guns, but I have to admit that I felt an odd pride witnessing his marksmanship. I even let out a yelp of glee when one of his shots popped two balloons at once.
I think I was just caught up in the moment. Or maybe it was the sangria I had quaffed at a sidewalk cafe. But when his eyes pleaded with me as he asked if he could choose a small airsoft pistol as his prize, I impulsively said yes, provided that he’d leave it in France when our vacation was over.
He agreed, and spent the next three days happily shooting into the trees behind our youth hostel (and yes, I made him retrieve and properly dispose of all the little plastic pellets!).
On the fourth day, the pistol broke (yay!), so he went back to the carnival and continued his winning ways. As a matter of fact, he did so well that he won a larger gun this time, one that looked like a big scary rifle. The horror.
This time I thought I’d outsmart him: I’d let Homeland Security agents do my dirty work. When it came time to pack for home, I magnanimously said, “You can try to bring it home, but I’m sure it won’t get passed the airport screeners.”
He stuffed it into his checked bag along with its box declaring it a “toy” and hoped for the best, but prepared for the worst.
Wouldn’t you know it, that thing arrived in Dayton intact.
(Meanwhile, I watched a trained beagle alert at a Detroit baggage carousel and sniff out another traveler’s smuggled wedges of French cheese, which were quickly and quietly confiscated. Bummer, dude.)
So now, despite my efforts at sabotage, my son has his airsoft. But many safety rules go with it. He must wear goggles, never aim at a person or animal, never shoot at a plastic target (ricochet risk, you know), and never, ever shoot it within city limits. Which limits him to shooting it when we visit his cousin’s rural Indiana home. Which is OK with me.
Oh, yeah: And the airsoft gun is kept separate from its ammo, and stored well out of sight of Little Brother. That’s the most important rule of all. One gun nut in the family is enough, thank you.
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Comments
By Kirsten
October 20, 2008 10:14 PM | Link to this
To every thing there is a season and for every person there is a deep affinity. What’s a mother to do? Better to learn the rules now than to play with guns for the first time as an adult… It’s going to happen, so why fight the inevitable? I think your rules are smart. He can’t help but respect them - and you for trusting him to be responsible.