6 years, 5 months.
Last Saturday afternoon, our family attended your classmate’s 6th birthday party at his family’s house. Mommy and I held Holly, while we sat on the covered back porch, along with the other parents.
Pretty early on into the party, Zeke’s dad brought out the Nerf mini dart guns for all the kids to run around in the back yard and shoot each other, while all the adults casually watched the chaos.
After a few minutes of the 6 year-old version of the Hunger Games taking place, I looked up from holding your sister’s hand as she walked along the patio furniture, and saw you quietly standing there on the outside of the guard rail, appearing to take aim.
I was right.
Because then, I saw you pull the trigger, hitting one of your friends in the chest as he ran across the yard. He had no idea he had been hit by the Nerf Sniper.
Then I muttered to you, “Jack, are you standing up there and shooting them without them knowing what you’re doing?”
You smiled so sneakily and shook your head, yes.
Obviously, I was proud of you. After all, it was a free-for-all. There were no rules. No one said you had to stay down in the line of fire and get shot like everyone else.
Good for you, assuming the role of the sniper.
Your idea of fun wasn’t running around, laughing with your friends. Instead, your idea of fun was winning. This was not a game at a birthday party. This was war.
By the time the others figured out what you were doing, it was time to go inside for pizza and cake.
I imagine a few years from now when your friends start having laser tag birthday parties, you’re definitely going to have an advantage.