Paintball and Princesses
I made a fateful assumption the other day, one that I am still paying the price for. I assumed that I had the right to engage in an activity that was designed for, well, younger people, and to do so with out any repercussions…WRONG!
Lindsey’s birthday was this past weekend, and we were all planned up for the event. There was to be a sleep over with a number of her closest friends…God help us…and a party on Saturday. Once the word of this got out, Christian began to seek out a “guy” activity that was sure to offset the elevated level of estrogen that was going to attack the house. His brilliant solution? PAINTBALL!
Soooo, after surviving a night of giggles, hair do’s, make up, games, silly jokes, pj’s, and a very late night; Christian and I were ready for some war, mayhem, shooting, killing, spitting, and pain! We got together his gear, climbed in the van, and headed out to the paintball field.
Right here is where I would like to pause and state that I have gotten a little out of shape recently, and I was in absolutely no way prepared for what was about to transpire.
On the way to the field, I made a little promise to myself in regards to how I was planning on behaving once the games began. I would start off slow, be deliberate and strategic with my motions, choose my shots wisely, and try to not get polk-a-dotted by the “paintballs of pain and death.” This was once again, a promise that I would not keep!
We got there, and as I was getting out of the van, I took one look at my son who was still getting over the activities of the night before. All of a sudden, I could have sworn that I heard him giggle. That was all it took! I became Rambo! Soldier of death! Let’s go kill everything that moves in front of us no matter what the cost. It was me…and my boy…and we were playing paintball, with other men, in camo, with guns, and paintballs, and Co2 bottles and we were going to win!!!
We got prepared for battle and took to the field. When the ref said go, we went! I, who had made a promise of conservatism to my poor body, launched into a full run; while firing my gun and screaming, I rushed towards a barricade and jumped onto the ground to avoid getting shot. The very hard, cold ground does not give at all! Christian and I attacked, we ran, we fired, we yelled, and even screamed while being shot. It was extreme and cool…and it hurt!
At one point, while forgetting how old I am. I ran down the field and launched my body over a barricade, landing on the ground with a loud CRUNCH! Yes…I was hurt. But! Christian was not to know! Because I was, after all, Rambo, Soldier of Death! I could weep later…in private.
Just for the record, I learned a few things about paintball. First, it is awesome to play with your son, you will never forget it. Second, this activity will not make you feel any younger; on the contrary, you will be reminded of the years gone by, and how out of shape you really are! Third, you do not have to be a good shot! In fact, guys who talk of being an accurate shot sound like idiots…its paintball for goodness sakes! Fourth…and this is very important…stretch first!
We played for two hours— two glorious hours, and then we returned home, and helped celebrate Lindsey’s party with cake and presents.
Lindsey is ten, she is radiant, she is fun, and she is the greatest Lindsey in the whole world. She giggles, smiles, dances, tells great jokes, and has terrific friends, and I love her. I, well I am sore, and Christian will giggle no more!
Jason, Father of six