Toy Guns

"Daddy, may I please have some more bullets?" The question came from my four-year-old daughter and it was music to my ears. When you stop and analyze the request you will see why I was so proud. First of all, she was so darn cute and polite when she asked that I couldn't say no. Secondly, she wanted ammo to fight off the boys who were attacking her. I was so proud of her for standing up to the boys that I had to give in. I made a quick sweep of the house and found a few extra bullets laying around.

"Here you go," I said handing her the nerf darts and helping her reload her gun. Just then, Justin, my two-year-old came around the corner with a gun of his own.

"Shoot Dada," he said with a smile. Then he pulled the trigger. I survived with only minimal suction marks on my forehead, but at least the kids had the time of their lives thanks to some overnight guests who smuggled the guns across state lines to share with us.

"Hey watch this!" I said as I loaded the little red gun. I then aimed it toward the skylight on the vaulted ceiling and fired. The suction dart struck the window and glued itself into place. "Now let's get it down," I said. With another suction dart in place I aimed carefully at the first one and let another shot fly. "Darn it!" Now there were two suction darts on the skylight. "Give me another one," I said to the kids. Four darts later, I decided that I needed to change my approach. With a little piece of scotch tape, I covered the tip of the next dart so it wouldn't be able to stick to anything. I then aimed and let another shot go. Missed. Try again. Missed again. Try again. Missed again. This went on for several minutes before I realized that I needed another new plan

Then it came to me. Hidden on top of the refrigerator was one of last year's Christmas presents that hasn't seen much action. After a few minor repairs it was ready. I carefully positioned the small remote control helicopter under the skylight and slowly eased it up. I quickly realized that the up and down features worked great, but the horizontal controls left a lot to be desired. Let's just say that it was a good thing there was no pilot because if there had been, he would have been so dizzy he'd have never made a safe landing. As it was, my first landing was a bit ugly anyway. With the chopper lifting up toward the ceiling, I tried my best to minimize the spin and aim it toward the darts, but the task was more difficult than I had anticipated given the limited control. Moments later the rotor smashed into the ceiling and the helicopter plummeted to the ground. Good thing it was a kid's toy and was made for hard landings.

With about six kids watching the action, I again lifted the helicopter skyward. "Shoot Dada."

"Not now, Buddy, Daddy's concentrating." Ignoring my plea and with a determined look in his eye, he pulled the trigger. At the same time the rotors clipped the ceiling and the chopper again fell to the floor much to everyone's delight. "I can do this," I said and set things up for a third attempt. This time, I got close enough to knock one dart down as the helicopter made its dive toward the carpet. Try as I may, I could not hit the next three, so we had to make the decision to wait them out. If only I hadn't licked the suction cup on the first one before I shot it.

The next morning, our friends had to hit the road in order to reach their Thanksgiving destination on time. "Red gun?" Justin inquired as their car pulled away.

"They had to take their guns with them," I told him.

"Blue gun?"

"That one too, Little Guy." Fortunately, this all happened the day before his second birthday. The delight in his eyes was unstoppable as he tore through the wrapping paper to reveal his very own nerf gun.

"Gun," he shouted, anxiously waiting for me to remove all the dad-proof packaging. We let him have some time to play with it before starting in on the other gifts. Once he realized that there was another present, his eyes lit up as he shouted, "More gun!"

"They're not all guns," I explained. "Some will be clothes and you need to be just as excited." And he did love the new sweater from Grandma and the other toys, but they could never compare with the joy of reveling in his second amendment rights.

A few nights later, he handed me the gun and pointed to a picture on the wall. "Shoot Gapa."

"You want me to shoot Grandpa?" I asked.

A big smile. "Shoot Gapa!" Not wanting to let the poor kid down I cocked the gun and aimed it right at the picture of my father-in-law's face. The suction dart stuck him right between the eyes. Justin squealed with delight as he handed me another dart. "Shoot Gama!" Before long, we had moved all the way down the wall of pictures and shot every family member at least once. The dog watched all this through the sliding glass door, wondering what the commotion was about and Justin noticed her pathetic stare. "Shoot HeeHee!"

"You want me to shoot Dacey?" I questioned.

"Shoot HeeHee!' So I aimed the gun at the glass and stuck one right on her nose. Needless to say, that present was a big hit.

Chances are the gun will be broken and the helicopter will be in for repairs next time you stop by, but you are always welcome to bring your own toys.