When my partner suggested that our children could each choose a toy for our mountain getaway, I was initially opposed. I tend to shy away from unnecessary purchases, as they often lead to clutter and additional cleaning in our home. However, as I strolled through the outdoor gear section, selecting new hiking pants and a shirt, I became blissfully oblivious to the choices my husband was allowing our kids to make.
One child opted for a flashy plastic truck that boasted obnoxious sound effects, while another chose a truck featuring a dinosaur—something that the rest of the family found amusing, but I simply could not comprehend. But the real surprise came when my oldest child made his selection.
I stood in shock in the middle of the store, trying to find a way to express my discontent to my husband without the kids catching on. “But Mom said I couldn’t have arrows anymore,” my son Tyler protested, gripping a foam-tipped bow at his side.
“That was because the last time you had something like that, you accidentally shot your brother in the eye,” I reminded him.
“It was only near his eye,” Tyler defended, while my middle child clutched his toy truck, clearly overwhelmed by the drama. Meanwhile, the youngest was busy playing, completely unaware of the chaos surrounding him.
“Well, he promised he wouldn’t aim it at anyone,” my husband insisted, holding up a box that read “Inflatable Wild Boar.”
“Oh my—” I barely stifled my expletive. “You’re buying him a bow and arrow set along with a—how long is that thing? Three feet?—inflatable boar? Just so we’re on the same page, you’ve been living in the South for far too long.”
“He’s 7,” my husband replied, as if that was justification enough for everything.
And so, we found ourselves in the mountains with a bow and arrow set, alongside a giant inflatable boar. The moment they unboxed everything, the kids dashed outside to test their new gear on a target that honestly seemed to mock them.
While at the cabin, Tyler took the lead, wielding his bow and arrows while his siblings observed. He focused on hitting the boar, lacking the precision to actually aim for anything specific. Rather than stalking it or crafting an elaborate hunting scenario, he simply engaged in target practice from a distance.
The boar was unmistakably a boar, complete with inflatable tusks and a rather inappropriate lump that only male pigs have. I found it a bit excessive, as I was more accustomed to playing with Barbie dolls than anatomically accurate inflatable animals.
Tyler was in his element, relishing his bow and arrows as well as the boar. Shooting it was a serious endeavor; no one tried to ride or hit it with sticks. It was his private activity, one that neither his father nor I were part of. It was evident that he was no longer the little boy who used to interrupt my writing with toys; instead, he was growing into a more independent child.
He now read his books, played with Legos, and engaged in imaginative scenarios—like pretending to hunt an inflatable boar. I knew he was maturing, but I hadn’t expected him to choose a bow and arrow over more conventional toys.
Despite my nostalgia for the baby days, I found joy in watching Tyler’s antics. His laughter and newfound interests reminded me of the boy he was becoming, and I realized there was beauty in this transition from baby to boyhood.
In these moments, as he leaned in for a hug and said, “I love you, Mom,” I felt grateful for this journey.
This article originally appeared on May 6, 2017.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Samantha shares her initial reluctance about allowing her children to choose toys during a mountain trip, only to be surprised by her oldest son’s decision to pick a bow and arrow set along with an inflatable boar. As she witnesses her son’s enthusiasm for this new toy and his growing independence, she grapples with the bittersweet feelings of watching him transition from toddlerhood to boyhood. The story highlights the joys and challenges of parenting, emphasizing the importance of embracing change while cherishing the memories of childhood.