Under Fire on the Homefront

     I am folding laundry in a war zone. Bullets are whizzing past my clean pajamas. Battle cries drown out music from my iPhone while a stampede of rowdy soldiers nearly overturns a basket of washed clothing.
     God, this is heaven. Well, not heaven but war, at least, is not Wii. And remember: It’s pretend.
     I’m surviving a six-kid play date: five boys, one girl, ages 7-10. They’re running around my tiny house with guns and swords and Tinker Toys. Bedrooms have become enemy bases and conventional toys have become very unconventional weapons: high-grade Lincoln Log lasers.
     The Wii, I’m relieved to say, stands alone. Dark, silent, unused, thank God. Indiana Jones, Mario, and such other modern distractions have given way to what my generation called fun: noise and physical action.
     Six kids are running around my house. One kid knocks over the cat bowl. Water mixes with meaty pebbles but I don’t care. Today, a Friday, we’re starting the weekend. Not a Wiikend. Bring on the troops!
     Should I call a truce? Beg for “indoor voices?” Should I lecture my kids on the virtues of non-violence? Hell no…
     As I suspected, their war mongering has just given way to Lego’s, and now they’re building a mini-society with real tangible toys. They’re saying things like: “Come to my store!” ”I’ll help build your house.” And “Let’s build a skyscraper to the ceiling and beyond!” Savagery has given way to civilization.
     Once in a while, try saying no to Wii – the drug, the silencer. You might have to survive a short-term war of youthful exuberance, but ultimately your kids will build their own world. A real world. Not a Wii world.
     Fold your laundry and let them go for it.

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