Showdown with Shaeden

He was only three . . . but he knew a lot. At least he thought he knew a lot! I had been having some really interesting conversations with my three-year-old grandson. They may have been better categorized as debates. He had very strong opinions. I wouldn’t know where he got that . . .

I watched my three grandsons on Fridays, but this was the first Friday in a long time, since COVID had hit, that his big brothers were back in school. So, it was just Shaeden. He showed up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and, first thing, took off for the basement—where all the toys are. There was an amazing amount of noise for one small child, rising up the stairwell to our living room where we were finishing up our breakfast. Before long, he was back upstairs—but with a toy gun. “Hands up!” he says to Papa. To which Papa quickly obliged. With no hesitation, the toy gun went off in rapid fire:

BANG! BANG! BANG! . . .

Shaeden: Cain said that we can still shoot, even if they put their hands up.

Nana: No, you can’t. If someone puts their hands up, that means you don’t shoot.

Shaeden: Cain said you can.

Nana: Cain was wrong.

Shaeden: Cain knows things.

Nana: I think Cain was mistaken.

Shaeden: No, he wasn’t.

Papa: Nana knows things, too.

Shaeden: Well, Cain said that if they put their hands up you can still shoot.

After a brief pause, while Nana regrouped . . .

Nana: Do you know what it means when someone puts their hands up? That’s their way of saying, “I give up,” “I’m done fighting,” “I don’t have a gun,” “I’m not going to shoot,” “Don’t shoot.”

Shaeden: Cain said you can still shoot ‘em.

Pause . . .

Nana: What did you have for breakfast this morning?

Shaeden: (in a Western drawl) Put ‘em up, boys! Hey Winston, (our Corgi) put ‘em up, son!

BANG! BANG! BANG! . . .

I’m not sure who won that one . . .

To celebrate the end of summer and our first day with just the two of us, we decided to run to Sioux Falls where we played at the park and hit the Pickle Barrel on our way home. He seriously would just eat the pickles, but I usually got a little meat or cheese or chips down him, too. This time, as we were eating, three police officers came in for lunch. I pointed them out, thinking he would think it was pretty neat to see them in their uniforms and all their gear. Rather, his eyes got big . . . he hugged the table . . . he crouched down a bit (you can’t get down much lower at the table, really, when you are only three!). He looked at me and very quietly, but stone-faced serious, asked “Are they going to kill us?”

My heart sank a bit. The poor little man! I don’t think it occurred to him that they were there to get a sandwich and a pickle! In his mind, there was going to be a shootout.

Nana: Oh, no baby! The police officers are nice. They protect us. We are the good guys. They just get the bad guys, so we can be safe.

As he ever so slowly inched his way around the corner of the table, along the side, sidling up close to me in my chair . . .

Shaeden: Yeah, but are they going to kill us?

Nana: Oh, no honey. They won’t shoot us.

Shaeden: I want to go home. Can we go home?

Nana: Let’s finish our lunch and then we’ll go home.

Shaeden: I want to go home.

Nana: Police are nice. Do you know that Boijan, Ella’s daddy, is a police officer? He is nice . . .

Shaeden: Boijan is a police officer?

Nana: Yep.

Shaeden: Does he have a gun?

Nana: Yep.

Shaeden: Does he have a black . . . (searching for the word for flak jacket, and settling for) shirt?

Nana: Yep.

Shaeden: Does he have a police car? (Clearly checking for all his credentials.)

Nana: Yep.

Shaeden: I want to go home.

Nana: Have a few more bites of sandwich.

Driving home . . .

Shaeden: (Mumbled comments from the back seat about bad guys and squishing their guts out and blowing their heads off . . .)

Nana: We don’t want to squish their guts out or blow their heads off! We should love them!

Shaeden: (incredulous) Why would we love them?!

Nana: Because Jesus tells us to love them. We don’t want to shoot the bad guys, maybe arrest them and take them to jail. Maybe they will learn to be good guys.

Shaeden: Oh, no (he assured me). These were very, very bad guys. (Coming out more like vewy, vewy with his three-year-old battle with r’s.) We should shoot them.

Nana: If we tell the bad guys about Jesus, maybe they will become good guys!

Pondering this…

Shaeden: Jesus lives in our hearts. Do bad guys have hearts?

Nana: Yes! Bad guys have hearts. They just don’t have Jesus in their hearts yet. We need to tell them about him and then they won’t want to be bad guys anymore.

After a pause . . .

Shaeden: Maybe we could fly a plane up there and tell him that these guys are vewy, vewy bad guys . . .

For clarification . . .

Nana: Fly up to heaven and tell Jesus?

Shaeden: (thoughtfully) Yeah . . . maybe . . .

Nana: Jesus already knows the bad guys and he loves them. He just wishes they knew about him. In the Bible, it says that Jesus wants us to go tell the bad guys about Jesus and how much he loves them.

Shaeden: I will not talk to the bad guys. I would shoot them.

Nana: I go into the jail and talk to them. I love them.

Shaeden: You go into the jail? With the bad guys? They could kill you.

Nana: I love them.

Shaeden: I will not talk to the bad guys. They are vewy, vewy bad.

Pause . . .

Nana: Hey look, you can almost see the water tower . . .

I’m not sure who won that one either . . .

A realization slowly dawned on me. He was only three. How early we indoctrinate, never even meaning to, about “bad” guys and “good" guys. Cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians…they seem such harmless, childhood games. And there is good and evil. There is a real battle. But when did we, especially as Christians, decide it was okay—even good—to teach our children that we should hate the bad guys . . . kill the bad guys. But then, we were indoctrinated, too. It’s a tough cycle to break.

I hope this won’t be my last showdown with Shaeden. I hope we have many more opportunities to discuss the good guys and the bad guys. I hope that one day, Shaeden loves the “bad” guys . . . and wants to tell them about Jesus. I believe he will.

“But love your enemies, do good to them,

and lend to them without expecting

to get anything back. Then your reward

will be great, and you will be children

of the Most High, because he is

kind to the ungrateful and wicked.”

Luke 6:35 NIV

“Bless those who persecute you;

bless and do not curse.”

Romans 12:14 NIV

“Devote yourselves to prayer, being

watchful and thankful. And pray for

us, too, that God may open a door

for our message, so that we may

proclaim the mystery of Christ, for

which I am in chains. Pray that I may

proclaim it clearly, as I should. Be

wise in the way you act toward

outsiders; make the most of every

opportunity. Let your conversation be

always full of grace, seasoned with

salt, so that you may know

how to answer everyone.”

Colossians 4:2-6 NIV