weapon aggression

At one point, Dennis stood over me on the couch, pointing a bright orange plastic gun at me and yelling "you are a BAD person, Mommy, and I'm going to POW you." I take it he's lost patience with having a sick Mommy. I do feel some better today but still have a horrible, deep, gross cough, and it wears me out when I do it.

We had a nice day today, playing some in his room and taking a mini nature walk tonight when we watered our garden. We found honeysuckle and wild blackberry plants, looked at clover, pointed out rosebushes, checked for lightning bugs (but he didn't have the patience to wait for them to come out), and successfully avoided any snakes that might be around. When we came back inside, I insisted that he clean up his cowboys and Indians, tiny figures that were covering the rug in the den, very painful when found by bare feet. He brought the Indians to me and asked about what they were carrying, which were bows and arrows, shields, and spears. I had to explain what each was and what its purpose was. In his room, he aimed his wooden rifle at me and said "I am going to POW you, Mommy" and I explained that we did not shoot people. He said "do we shoot animals, Mommy?" and I said 'hunters do', to which he immediately replied "I am a hunter and you are an animal, and I will pow you!".

On one of his visits to the bathroom while I was in there (I have discovered that motherhood means a COMPLETE surrender of your privacy), he said "I remember when I was an Indian--I said 'woop woop woop' (said while tapping his open palm over his mouth) and I got the arrow and I let it go!". I didn't ask when it was that he'd been an Indian.