In the Wittingshire post, Amanda says:
When my boys were three and four, they spent a good bit of time patrolling the perimeter of the back yard with stick guns. One day they were making particularly gruesome sound effects and my feminine squeamishness, which I try to keep tamped down while mothering boys, got away from me. "I really don't like you pretending to shoot people," I told them.
"We're not pretending to shoot people," my older son said. "We're shooting pretend people. Dangerous ones."
Oh.
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