This past weekend, Sweet Daughterand I traveled to visit some friends, including a young lady 2 years older than SD.
At one point everyone was in our hotel room, and the other girl looked at the locks on the door and asked if they were there to keep the Bad Guys out. I said yes, and that if they didn’t keep the Bad Guy out, they’d at least slow him down enough so that I could get my pistol (pointing to my range bag) and stop him. Then I told her that, as a grownup, it was my job to keep her and SD safe from Bad Guys, and THAT was why I had a gun.
SD’s friend, who is raised in a liberal, Code White world, cocked her head to one side as a new idea entered her head.
“Sweet Daughter!” I called. “Where would you go if I yelled ‘Wolf*!’”
She looked around the room and said “The closet!”
“Behind the bed against the wall is another good choice”, I said. But, since we’re on the ground floor, we have another option. That grown-up (pointing) could open the window and get you outside while I stopped the Bad Guy.”
And I could almost see the lightbulb start to glow over the head of the other girl.
I grew up in a Code White world, and on my way over to the side of taking responsibility for my own safety, I went through this thought process.
Most good parents worth the title often proclaim that they would die to keep their kids safe. This is noble and selfless and good, but at one point I asked myself why I should die to save Sweet Daughter? Why should she spend the rest of her life without her mother? Wouldn’t it be better if the Bad Guy went down instead? I’m willing to die for my daughter, but more importantly, if one of us is going to take a permanent dirt nap, I’d prefer it not be me.
So, yes. If the threat is there, I’m willing to kill for her. And this past weekend, I found out that I was willing to extend that courtesy to other innocents as well.
* “Wolf” is our code name for Bad Guy.