I was home schooled, sent to bed at 7pm until I was 10 then it was 8pm. At 16 up until either I wanted to or the family retired for the night. We had over 15 rifles, shotguns or pistols in the house. I knew how to use all of them by age 12. AND - knew the safety requirements on all of them. I could field strip all of them when I was 12 ..... of course having a marine as my dad and two brothers and an uncle in the army helped ...
You forgot, in my case we had to get up at 5 a.m, milk a cow, throw papers, then go and work 2 hours at the local IGA grocery store, and then get to school by 8 am. We were REALLY abused.
My bedtime was 8PM until I was about 12 or so. That doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary except in the summer. Where I grew up, the sun didn’t set until about 9:25 on the longest day of the year. I wasn’t home schooled though.
As for firearms...I am getting really disgusted at people who say that it’s “ok to keep firearms in the house with children if the guns are out of the reach of children.”
THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS OUT OF THE REACH OF CHILDREN!
Children will get into everything. When I was a little snot, I would sneak into the attic, into the basement, behind the dryer, on top of the fridge, crawl inside the kitchen cupgboards(top shelf even!), into every private drawer of my parent’s bedroom. I knew about every little tiny thing that existed in my parents’ house. I could empty my dad’s old army foot locker and put everything back exactly the way it was. I could empty my mom’s jewelry box and put everything back exactly the way it was. I knew where every bullet and every firearm was. I knew which ones were loaded and which ones weren’t.
Half the time I coulda told you which page was marked in my dad’s bible and how much money was in his wallet on his nightstand.
I knew exactly which pages of which issues of national geographic had pictured of naked black women. I knew where dad’s stash of “really good” fireworks were. I knew where all my parent’s income tax returns were all the way back to way before I was born. I could tell you where to find photos of my parent’s prom nights that were supposedly lost years ago so that their spouses couldn’t see pics of them on dates with someone else. And I knew the names of those “other” people because it was written on the backs of the photos.
I can almost guarantee you that they never knew how nosy I was. Maybe they had an idea, I don’t know.