Several tin cans and old license plates were sacrificed for target practice (I don't really know what a carbine rifle is, but my brother apparently owns one). There's a chicken out there somewhere with purple wings (even though we told the kids NOT to point the paintball gun at animals). But who knew that a spoon could be considered a weapon?
It started as a friendly game of cards -- you know the one where there is one less spoon than players and when you get four of a kind you grab for a spoon -- and WHACK, we heard someone get hit. Most adults would just say "ouch" but teenagers strike back. Jack only got a spoon to the head but Hannah got a fist to the nose.
Yep, that's right, my kids got into a fistfight at Thanksgiving.
"I'm gonna get a black eye," Hannah wailed. "I can't go to work like that!"
"Why?" somebody asked.
"Because they hired me because I'm cute and that sells popcorn."
I'm just grateful that the guns were out of reach.