My husband has told me so often about different "projects" he had as a child.  Considering the fact that he is not the world's handiest man, I have often doubted some of the tales. 

I was gone this morning to Cotsco with my mom and aunts.  I got up this morning and scrubbed down the kitchen in preparation for my return with a load of food.  I left to do lists for the clan.  On my "Honey Please" list I said PLEASE don't make a big mess.  When he pulled in earlier this afternoon, you cannot imagine my thoughts when I see the neighborhood kids, our kids, and my husband out front with saws, sanders, and paints.  He was sharing one of his childhood projects with them.

My mind immediately raced to my lists.  Did they do anything productive in my absence?  I wonder what the house looks like.  I had put "Pick up the Yard" on the list, and I can assure you the yard was not looking its tidiest.  I was pleasantly surprised it had been mowed. 

I put on my happy face, and sweetly asked  what they were doing.  I was immediately and proudly shown the first round of plywood shields.  He was cutting magic wands next, and then on to swords.  Spray paint was flying, and sanders were buzzing.  I smiled, and walked away.

They kept at work for several hours. I helped by wrapping yarn around handles and consulting on color choices for the fairy princesses.  Some pounding and final alterations are still taking place in the near darkness. 

At first, the modern mom  in me was appalled by the barbarian nature of today's arts and craft time.  A good mom has NO business allowing her children to play with power tools, much less run about our yard with wooden swords and shields attatched to their arms by old jean legs.  Someone may just lose an eye!

We live in a society where we we protect our young from almost everything.  We shield our precious darlings from all those things considered dangerous, yet it seems that we still have emergency rooms full of broken legs and stitched heads.  Kids will be kids, won't they?  Maybe sometimes, we should just let them play! 

Didn't our parents survive a childhood full of unsafe playthings?  Didn't our grandparents  play with rocks and sticks down at the ole swimming hole?  Yet, somehow they survived long enough to become our grandparents. Didn't our generation have lists of toys that are now considered treacherous for our children?

I am not advocating we through all children safety laws out the window. Those rules are there for a reason, and do protect us in so many ways.  I don't think we should give babies magnetic beads, and I don't think we should allow the Chinese to paint every toy with lead filled paint.  I doubt I will be giving my ten year free reign with his BB gun as my father was allowed. 

Instead, I will not squelch my husband's desire to share his childhood with our children.  I will turn the other way while the war wages between the knights and the evil princesses.  I will say an extra prayer for protection.  I will join my children in the joys of childhood, and try to cling to these memories.

 If you look very closely, you will see evidence of our first injury.  I have already questioned my newfound resolve.