Yes! Me too!

I have a 2 1/2 years old son, and he recently received a castle with Knights, and a Robin Hood tree. He loves to play with them, and I'm proud of that since I've always loved sword and dagger stories ...

But when he started using the Sheriff to punch at Robin and Friar Tuck ... it did not feel good at all

And quite friendly, I have no hint where he got the idea from ... he may only watch one cartoon once in a while, and these are soft cartoons (Dora, Noddy, ...), the stories we read him are not violence (not necessarily by choice, they are that way), ....

This being said, I also believe that it is not because he punches Robin with the Sheriff that he will become a violent person later on ...

But stil ...

I go through the same thing, Chris -- I had thousands of comics when I was a kid, and now my children are reading comics for themselves. In part, I'm prone to pat you and me both on the back for thinking about the issue in the first place, since the biggest problem comes when parents aren't aware at all of what their kids are doing -- what kind of books and comics they're reading, what kind of games they're playing, who their friends are, and so on.

My 10 y.o. daughter loves fantasy stories of all types -- novels, manga, comics, cartoons, etc. She also loves to make up her own stories. I take advantage of this by talking with her about what she likes and doesn't like in the stuff she reads. Recently, at her instigation, I read a bunch of the current Superman/Batman series, which led to several bedtime conversations in which we rated the different storylines and writers. Now we've moved on to discussing her own big idea for a squad of superheroes.

Short version: if a dad can help to ensure that kids get a jolt to the imagination from comics *without* marinating in violence or sexuality that's too much for them, I think that reading comics can be a great thing.

I'm with you , Chris. I used to love Spiderman, X-Men, Fantastic Four, and others. I also grew up watching Warner Brothers cartoons before they were edited. You know, the ones where the Bull would actually get blown up, or Tweetie would actually plug Sylvester's tail into the electrical outlet. They were funny, like the Three Stooges were funny. But I always got that they were comics or cartoons. Mostly because my parents did a great job teaching me how to interact with real people. They taught me that hitting was wrong, that words were to be used instead of violence.

But comics and cartoons are different now. The stories are more violent, more graphic, more sexual, and more heavily themed.

I recently bought my son a subscription to Spiderman, but not before I spent a good deal of time in the store reading the book and making sure it was appropriate. What bummed me out the most was the art. It's styled in a way that isn't appealing to me but apparently is the way many books are drawn, since I noticed it in several titles.

I too have fond memories of comics and the experiences I had reading them. My son is now starting to collect some of the old comics I had when I was his age and the memories are flooding back.

But here's the crux of it: being a parent, and for most people, I suspect, being a parent in the way your parents were, means being vigilant, protective, and empowering at the same time. It means teaching your kids to explore while being as aware of their surroundings as they can be and trusting that, when the time comes, they'll make the right choices.

We were recently at a dinner party and my son came along to hang out with our host's older son. I asked if he was going to be okay hanging out with this older boy and he said he would, because they could play video games. But then, unprompted, he offered that there were some games he wouldn't be able to play because they were rated M. It was a moment of pride and anxiety for me at the same time. I was proud that he understood that there were boundaries and that he respected them, but I was anxious because, as a sixth grader, he's going to be increasingly making his own decisions.

In the end, I have to trust him. And I have to trust that all the dialogue along the way has made a difference.