Paintball Gun

What is a boy's fascination with guns?  I don't get it.  I don't think I ever will.  But at least my husband only has a thing for paintball guns and not real guns.  (Don't get either of us started on owning one of those...)  So while Alan was on call one night, the UPS truck arrived at our door.  Excitement started brewing.  Hearts started racing.  What could it be?  The kids and I raced to the door, tore the package open, read the label and found: PAINTBALL PISTOL.  Awesome.  He swears he didn't buy it shoot the dog.  I don't know about that.  It's just for fun, "like your craft stuff."  Uh huh.

So now the kids are learning to shoot the paintball gun.  I have to admit that the thing is pretty fun to shoot. And I've got pretty good aim.  But what fun is it to just shoot inanimate objects?  Now Alan used to go play paintball a lot in the heyday of his youth.  Unfortunately I was either unknown to him during that time or pregnant and thus unable to play.  Can you believe that I had never been shot by a paintball?  Well, we couldn't tell the kids what we were doing or they would have freaked out.  So I walked into the yard, pretending to pet the dog.  Alan called the dog back, said, "One, two, three," then shot me with the paintball gun."  It stung.  A lot.  But not too bad.  I was fine.  But if I could bottle up the looks on the kids faces, oh!  Priceless.  I think they thought I was going to die.  The look was of sheer terror.  I guess, as a mom, I should probably feel bad about that, but it was fairly comical, knowing that I was fine and all.  So I laughed, and then they laughed that sick, is everything okay? laugh.  Then we all talked about it like it was the event of the century.  And then I shot Alan in the back.  Ha.

(Disclaimer: We have not, nor will not ever shoot an animal with this paintball gun.)
(Disclaimer2: We won't shoot our kids either.)