Unlike most mothers and fathers in America, the missus and I looked at our baby daughter and said, “She’ll be crawling soon. We’ll need to store the swords higher.”
Yes, swords. My wife is quite the RenFest fan (although we haven’t been to one since the kids were born, but I can see us taking them out to one when they’re a little older). I spent a few years studying Iaido before the knees started screaming that they just wouldn’t accommodate certain wazas.
Our daughter might be the only one at the prom with one of those rings that doubles as a poison container, her own mead tankard, and a clear understanding (in case of, you know, a zombie apocalypse breaks out during the prom) of what constitutes an efficient cut.
The boy will probably be a “Hulk smash!” kind of guy. But right now, he’s all grabby with everything he sees. So no swords within reach of him, either.
But as Penny Arcade often proves, we aren’t considering all of the possibilities…
Daddy, are we there yet? 