I still remember when they laid that beautiful little boy in my arms, who would have thought someday I would....oh wait, let me back up.
A couple weeks ago while we were sitting in church, I was obviously engrossed in the speaker, but it occurred to me that my family might really like paint ball games. So I leaned over to Scooter and said, "I think we should buy some paintball guns". Scott, so in tune with my thinking (or maybe just resigned) just smiled and nodded.
That afternoon during Sunday dinner we discussed the idea with the fam. My Mother's creek bottom would be a perfect paintball area...plenty of cover, close. We decided we would like to try it out as a family. We only had one concern, how bad did getting hit with a paintball hurt? We decided we could take it and that what ever happens there would be no tears in paintball.
It took a few weeks to purchase the equipment and gear up, first we attacked the trees in our back yard, I think we won. This week we didn't have a lot of time, but we thought we would head down to the creek and try it out a little. We were getting ready, and Erik had his gear on when I said, "Hey Erik, go stand over there, and I'll shoot you and we'll see how bad it hurts" For total disclosure here, neither Emily or Scott were outside with us to give us the "maybe this isn't a good idea" look. So Erik took a few steps away....and I shot him.
Erik was wearing a protective vest, but he dropped like a rock. To his credit, there were no tears! Then we looked to see what his beloved Mother had done to him.
Ok, I'm not proud of it, but my lapse of parental judgement is pretty funny.
