Before I became a parent, I was certain that my children would never, ever play with toy weapons.
How could they, while being raised by a peace loving, tree hugging, gun loathing, bleeding heart liberal such as myself?
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
This weekend we participated in the annual "Soak the Sensei" event at the bayside picnic hosted by our beloved Dojo. It's a chance for the kids to stalk and drench the adults whom they spend the other 364 days and 23 hours of each year addressing as "SIR!" and "MA'AM!"
After enjoying a gorgeously summerific lunch of burgers and dogs with pot luck sides (featuring my personal favorite: an entire table for chips alone), the kids geared up and followed their Sensei to the designated holding area to hear the simple rules:
no salt water, no spraying into eyes, and no shooting anyone outside of the boundaries of play.
And then they were set loose:
My boy was in his element, he could barely stand upright under the weight of all barrels filled, but that giant smile never left his face.
Check out my girl's game play:
Those orange markers on the grass are the boundary. My girl would watch and wait from the safey of the sidelines ....
then jump into the fray for a strategically planned strike before making a hasty retreat.
She and her cohorts stayed pretty dry until they turned on each other.
In the end, the thing I learn over and over again as a parent is that I should never say never. Who could have imagined that this tree loving, hippy hugging, happy hearted liberal was responsible for outfitting her kids with this most excellent arsenal? My only regret is not buying a family four pack. Bill and I are sitting ducks.