If they did this 50 years ago, the 10 year old that was me would say heck yea, I have a .22 and a .410 in my Closet.
Want to go shooting?
Makes me wonder how I ever grew up. As soon as I could crawl I was on the back porch playing with my Dad’s old rusty guns. My toys consisted of one little wooden truck and whatever was on the porch. My folks just assumed I knew how to use the guns and they never ever scolded me or otherwise got on my case about it. My Dad even made sure I had a few fired cartridge cases to play “load/unload” with. And I can only imagine how much fun would have been had if some quack had got on the folks’ case about how much firepower was in the house.