Military discounts and BB Guns

It might not surprise you to know that I am little crazy when it comes to coupons, discounts, local rates, internet specials and anything else I can come up with to save a little cashola. It's fairly safe to say that I don't purchase much for the original asking price. I didn't marry for money, nor did I choose a career that would be too profitable. So, I have to save somewhere. I just recently realized how obvious this problem was to others. In particular, how obvious it is to the two little people who call me "mom."

About two years ago, the boy child came upon the responsible age of ten. It is at this age that he is now a military ID card holder. He was very excited to go to the MPF and get his photo taken. He now holds in his sweaty little hands his identity. A card he freely flashes to anyone who asks, or doesn't ask for that matter. What he was most excited about, we recently learned, was the possibility of a military discount. What? Yes my boy wants to ask every clerk at every store, if they offer a military discount so he can flash his ID card. Where did he get this idea? Oh, yeah... me. So, came the discussion of the sacrifices men and women in uniform make for their country. We are not entitled to a discount. We are not entitled to any special privileges with this ID card. We are graciously given a discount by local merchants who appreciate what our daddy does for his country. Period. End of story. Quit asking for discounts.

The younger girl child chimes in. "Why do they care what daddy does for his job." The discussion continued. The bravery of the men and women who have fought and died and continue to fight so that our country can enjoy certain freedoms. Then the even bigger question comes up. "Will our daddy have to fight?" Well yes, he does. He doesn't do anything glamorous like fly fighter planes or infantry or anything like that. But, yes he has a small, but important part in fighting wars. He is a small part of the bigger system that continues to fight for our freedom. At this point her face becomes very somber. I can see the worry gears turning in her head. I have those same worries in my head, so I am very familiar with what they look like. Then finally she finds her small contribution to keep her daddy safe in "fighting these wars." I'll let daddy take my gun to work with him. Yes, she said it. She has a gun. A shiny, bubble gum pink, Red-Rider BB gun that her grandparents got her for Christmas a few years back. With that... the  worries are gone and she skipped out of the room with a proud smile on her face. Problem. Solved.