When I was 5 years old, I was given a toy machine (without bullets). I rushed into the whole apartment with anxiety, killing enemies. Then I didn’t find anything better than sending a trumpet on my mom and "shooting". She fell on the couch and "died". I ran around her for about 20 minutes and tried to revive her. Eventually I sat next to me and just cried. My mother stood up and calmed me. Per it was hard for a small child, but now I have a complete prejudice against any violence.