The house pounds with stomping and the shrieks of battle cries as a full on Nerf War wages upstairs in the boy quarters. The thumps are startling and flinch inducing. But I bite my tongue and let it play out because I have learned that it only prolongs the battle crazed madness when mom frustrates raging warriors from whacking their best friend in the face with a plastic mace. My only goal is to keep the blood loss at a minimum. And I have checked-I have plenty of Scooby-Doo band-aids in the cabinet. Also, the "warriors" know that if they are accused in a war tribunal (with mom as judge, jury, and executioner) and found guilty of giving no quarter to a fallen "enemy"-then hell hath no fury like a righteous mother defending a 3rd grader who is balled up in the fetal position while screaming like a little girl.
So even though my nerves are a little frayed, and I am honestly a little anxious for their safety, I let it continue because boys MUST practice being heroes and warriors-in the safety of their own nest. I believe that boys are God-designed for these roles, and if we want good men in this world, they have to learn how to lead a charge, to be dedicated to one's cause, to show mercy and restraint to an enemy, to find the courage to face opponents who might be bigger or tougher, that having your "brother's" back is paramount, and at the end of a fight be held accountable-above all else-for using his powers for GOOD... And yes, all this with plastic swords. Mothering boys is not for the faint at heart...
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