This past Christmas I couldn’t bring myself to shop for my children.  Partly that’s because I didn’t feel like dealing with the throngs at the mall, Wal-Mart or even my favorite local haunt, Mo’ Fo’ Yo’ Do’ Pawn Shop, Tanning and Pediatric Dentistry.

Usually when I feel sluggish and spirit-deprived, I just order on-line.   Then I can still feel justified telling my kids “Listen, you ingrates.  I’ve run myself ragged shopping for you.  If you want to:  (fill in the blank) eat; put up a Christmas tree; continue to have heat, electricity, cable, etc., get off my back and deal with it yourselves.”

But this year was different.   All they want is fancy electronics.  I’ve got a 21-year-old, a 20-year old, a twelve- and a ten-year-old. And they all want the same things.  High-tech expensive gadgets that, depending on which orifice they’re inserted into, can do things that used to require the service of highly trained professionals.

This bothers me.  I-phones, i-pods, e-readers, ps3s, x-boxes, g2s, DS’s – they’re making a-holes out of kids.  They walk around texting, tweeting, talking but they’re not really doing anything.   And then there’s sexting.  And sending each other naked photos that go viral and can haunt them for the rest of their lives.  What happened to kids just being kids?  It’s not about connecting.  From what I’ve observed, it’s mostly self-centered babble.  It’s only a matter of time before fetuses will be texting their layette preferences from the womb.

I’ve seen all four of my kids in the same room with their various devices, not saying a word to each other.  There’s no interaction; I don’t even think they know each other’s names.

I wanted to do something different this year.  In fact, I wanted to get all the kids in my extended family something that would say “family matters.”  Something that would get them off Facebook and bring them face-to-face.  Something that would let them be kids again, for a little while longer.   It occurred to me it was high time to get back to basics, before it was too late. 

So I bought every kid in my family a gun.  That’s right.  Every kid over two feet tall got a selective-fire, gas-operated 7.62 x 39 mm Kalashnikov automatic assault rifle.

I’ve always been anti-gun. I don’t understand the allure and since I’m a hazard to myself shaving my legs with a Bic disposable razor, I’m not sure that armed, I’d be my family’s best defense.  And I’ve never understood how the “right to bare arms” pertains to guns.  No matter how pale and flabby my bare arms appear, it does not give anyone the right to shoot me.

 But these days it seems everyone wants their guns, anytime, anywhere, not just in their homes. They want to bring them to bars and restaurants where alcohol is served.  In Ohio, that may happen real soon.  Rep. Danny Bubp (no idea how that’s pronounced) is trying to force a House vote willy nilly on a pair of controversial bills that would allow permit holders to carry concealed weapons into places that serve alcohol.  “I want to be able to go as soon as possible into an Applebee’s, an O’Charley’s or somewhere with my weapon,” he was quoted as saying.  Along with his binky, his blanky and his Tickle Me Elmo.

Plus the Ohio State Supreme Court just lifted several local gun laws.  Cities in Ohio can no longer ban assault weapons; only the state and federal government can.  I don’t know if this applies to AKs.  Then again, I know as much about guns as I do about texting.  But maybe I’ve been overreacting to anti-gun hysteria all these years.  Surely lawmakers have my best interests in mind. 

So it was that after a long night of Googling, linking, haggling, following threads and pretending I understood various Cyrillic languages, I found myself in a dusky smoke-filled café, handing a swarthy stranger a wad of bills.  As he helped me load a cache of AK’s in my minivan, I decided it was worth every penny just to not have to visit the mall.

I delivered the gaily wrapped, fully-loaded automatic firearms to my relatives’ homes early Christmas morning, like a Secret Santa; I rang the bell, then ran off and hid in the bushes, watching to see which lucky tyke would open the door and get to the box first.

I saved my kids’ AKs till the next day; I told them the night before that I had one more extra-special present for each of them, and that I’d set them out the next morning before I went to work.

Being a concerned parent, I included the rules of responsible gun ownership in all four of the packages. 

1. Do NOT shoot and text at the same time.
2. No drive-by’s (applies to our neighborhood only)
3. Aiming at the cat and dogs is not fair – if they had opposable thumbs I would have gotten them weapons too; then it would be okay. 
4. If you kill or maim anyone I’ll break your fingers.  Remember, guns don’t kill people.  People don’t kill people.  Fingers kill people.  So be careful to whom you give the finger.
5. Most of all, enjoy!  I (heart) you guys.  Mom!

I haven’t seen or heard from my kids since Christmas but I’m not worried.  I’m sure they’re off together, having a great time getting to know each other.  Haven’t heard from the relatives either, but if any of them is reading this:  “You’re welcome.”

As for me, I’m excited about New Year’s Eve because I couldn’t resist getting a little something for myself.  At midnight, I’ll be firing my Panzerfaust 3 recoilless RPG anti-tank weapon with disposable launcher tube.   Happy holidays!