New nomenclature

Sweet Daughter acquired several new games during Christmas. I've had the pleasure of playing them with her, and she's quite ... proficient.  She regularly creams both Shorter Half and me at cribbage, for instance. She started owning us at Uno. I'm still holding my own at Mancala, but I'm running out of adjectives for getting soundly beaten at Concentration and the like. There's getting "spanked", "getting beat like a rented mule", being told "You're going down!" and the ever popular "I'm going to beat the pants off you!"

Which, of course, evolved into "I am SO going to Robb Allen you!"

Survived

Skating today was a success. Sweet Daughter and I made the first circuit of the rink at a snail's pace, both frantically clutching the boards. The second pass got easier. She fell a lot, but she was prepared for that. By the end of 90 minutes she was skating without help in the middle of the rink. I improved to the point that I made several loops without SD, at a reasonable speed, and didn't care that I was yelling "WhoaAAAH!" with my arms wind-milling  in front of the high school kids. I even remembered how to go backwards, which was helpful in keeping ahead of, and an eye on SD at the same time. When one of the moms (17 years my junior) jokingly accused me of being a slacker while standing around, I challenged her to a race around the rink. Ha. She backed down.

One very cute couple asked me to take their picture. "Say 'Brian Boitano'!" I chirped. They looked confused. "Say 'Dorothy Hammill!" No better luck. I'm hoping I at least got eccentricity points.

I only made one "controlled descent" (NOT on my bum, thank-you-very-much!), and overextended into a near split once while trying not to run over SD when she fell down in front of me. (Remember how I don't remember how to stop?) Which reminded me of the last time I went skating -- it was my senior year of college and it was outside. No boards. I seem to recall more than once that night when I ran out of ice before I ran out of speed and ended up launching myself into a snowdrift. I quit when I hit the one that was like concrete. No, I don't believe there was any beer involved, at least not until I was done skating.

All-in-all it was a success. I held my own on the ice, I didn't wipe out in a spectacular manner (although that would have made a better story), and SD had a good time. Now I'm ready for some more Vitamin I, and a good stiff drink. We'll see how well I'm moving tomorrow ...

Update: I'm moving better this morning than I was earlier in the week. The only possible explanation I can come up with is that I'm still experiencing some sort of post-exercise endorphin rush and when it wears off, I’ll be unable to so much as blink my eyes.

Shooting with Sweet Daughter

Sweet Daughter finally got a chance to fire her birthday present today. She hasn't done any shooting in months, but it was time to try out her new .22.

Her first target selection was the Big Bad Wolf. Shorter Half instructed her on the basics and she was good to go.

[Video to come if it will EVER load ... UPDATED - Video on following post.]

The bi-pod made all the difference for this new shooter. SD was able to hit what she was aiming at. The wolf target took a beating.

Then we set her loose on some reactive targets. See the orange spinning target? She hit the diamond on her first try. Here is an action shot of the the target in mid spin. Really.

By this point, she's loading and cocking the rifle herself.

She's ready for something different.

She loves the targets that change color. So while Shorter Half did some pistol work, she selected anew target and we girls did some bonding with the help of an EPR*. I didn't worry about her technique, I just made sure she stayed safe, followed the four rules, and had fun.

I think we were successful. This reaction was a result of this target.

Seven shots from the prone position. Six on paper. Rifle not yet zeroed. I'd take that any day of the week.

*Evil Pink Rifle

It's rough being a kid

I picked up Sweet Daughter from daycare this afternoon, stopped to get gas before running to the library, and then home to start dinner. I finished filling the tank, put the gas cap back, gave it a twist, grabbed my receipt and hopped in the Family Truckster only to see Sweet Daughter looking like her heart was broken, with tears streaming down her face, as she heroically tried to stop sobbing.


“Sweetie! What’s wrong? Are you okay?!!?”

::: sniff ::: sniff ::: SNIFF! :::

“It’s just that I’m a little sad (sniff) because I can’t go to the gun range until I’m seven, and I’m (sob!) ONLY FOUR AND A HALF!!!”

Her dad and I don’t talk guns much. I didn't think we talked about the range in front of her to the extent that she would think it was some sort of mecca. We certainly don’t have the time we’d like to spend at the range (I haven’t been since the beginning of the year), and so I don’t know WHERE she gets if from. It must be genetically encoded somewhere in her DNA.

Anyhow, I did my best to console her with the fact that when we go to Charlotte in less than two weeks, they’ll have a range there, just for kids. She'd better bring her piggy bank.

Things to work on before school starts

Sweet Daughter is currently watching “Donald in Mathmagic Land” for the second time tonight. Yes, the one from 1959. She’s throwing out the names for shapes. Triangle? Check. Square? Check. Rectangle? Check. Pexagon? Close. But we’re really going to have to work on that 6-sided shape. I can’t expect a teacher to not say something when SD starts talking about sexagons.