I thought we needed a dog. Maybe we don’t.
For clean-up? Cameron crawls around on the floor after supper, eating leftover biscuit crumbs. I do feed my children! I promise.
For security? Dee tells all the home security system solicitors that we don’t need an alarm system. We hang dirty diapers outside. Not quite the truth, but we do have a lot of dirty diapers! Especially with a newborn. They poop and pee a LOT!
For companionship? Umm… take your pick of siblings, please!
For guarding the children while they’re out playing? We have Cameron. Last Sunday, on our way home from church, we passed the local cemetary. Cameron asked, “Is that where we go to die?” I said “No, that’s where people are buried, under the ground, after they die.” I went on to explain how there are cemetaries everywhere, and you can choose which one you want to be buried at, and your body gets put in a casket, and I might have even tried a “body vs. spirit” discussion…
And I think Cameron was just waiting for me to finish. He understood the main point. “So,” he clarified, “We cut somebody with a knife and then take them there?”
Umm.. I did my best to explain the whole, huge wrongness of that picture. My boys try to convince me on a daily basis that if they saw bad guys, they could shoot them or cut them. No, I don’t encourage this. I tell them to scream and try to run away, but they’re boys! Macho men in small bodies. I do appreciate their fierce, masculine protectiveness, but it needs to mature just a bit.
So. Until my Cameron is much, much older and wiser, no pocketknives for Christmas or birthdays!