Sticks and stones, guns, swords and daggers.
Joining the pack of boys who run wild through our neighborhood gardens is my nearly three- year-old son Oliver’s greatest desire. In the morning on the way home from dropping Anna Lee at preschool, he batters me with questions, “Can I play with Miki?” or “Where’s Matěj?” speaking of our 7 and 10-year-old neighbors, the eldest two in the neighborhood gang. Knowing that it’ll be hours before the boys come home from school, I divert his questions with talk of the music, exercise or art classes with similarly-aged toddlers that we attend. Or I mention that we could go see his same-age friends at the park later in the morning. But Oliver doesn’t give in. He is emphatic about what he wants, namely to play with the “big” boys.