Actually, I’ve been known to kill mice, rats, and any number of bugs. Don’t get me started on mosquitoes, either. But while I’m all for eating meat, I’m not big on killing them myself. It’s not that I wouldn’t, it’s just that my hobbies tend more towards books and music. I’m all about bacon, but being an American in 2009 means I do your taxes, you make my shoes, and someone else can take care of the pigs.

“I don’t kill things” was my response to E earlier after he asked whether a gun he was eying would be good for “big game,” whatever that means. E is an all-American Boy, with a capital B. Right now he is at basketball practice because football season ended. At other times he can be found playing lacrosse, and he’ll dabble in just about any other sport he comes across.

And part of E being an all-American Boy is obsessing over weapons, knives and guns especially. It’s easy to get caught up in the violence of it, but that would be wrong and unfair. After all, lots of people have guns and love to hunt. And I myself have – I kid you not – a briefcase of knives, although it’s nowhere near as impressive as my dad’s knife briefcase.

When I was E’s age, I loved to imagine I was at war. I drew scenes of violence on the front of my bulletin at church (but I didn’t fidget!). And I asked for weapons for Christmas every year. Does the jolly fat guy bring weapons on that happiest of days? Yes, Virginia, he does. Joy, love, peace, and a new knife that could get you suspended if you accidentally brought it to school.

So no, I don’t kill things. But I’m not going to be casting the first stone.