Hunted

My days have been fairly interesting lately.  Actually, I haven't been able to relax much, except during our beloved daily nap times.  Then, and only then, can I let my guard down.

I'm going to blame the expert-markmanship genes that come from both sides and the ingenious gift giver who thought it would be a good idea to bring a gem made by Nerf.  You know who you are, and when the time is right, I will repay you.

It all started a few days ago.  I was minding my own business, putting away laundry.  I should have realized that the house was too quiet.  My mistake.  As I stepped out of my bedroom, Luke and Jack simultaneously popped up from their hiding place behind the couch.  I could only see one of Luke's eyes because the other one was behind the view finder of his semi-automatic Nerf gun.  He did follow our only dart gun rule in the house: no aiming for the head.  The dart hit me squarely in the neck. That rule might have to change to be more inclusive.

Luckily, Jack makes it a little easier on me.  He comes running into the room, giggling and announces that he is trying to hide from me so he can shoot me.  Today he came to me crying because he didn't have as good of a hiding place as Luke.  He also can't pull the loading mechanism on one of the guns.  So as soon as I pull it back, I quickly try to find cover.  I especially like it when he abandons his gun for his Indiana Jones whip(thank you very much Uncle John).  Then I really have time to run because I can always hear him coming. 

It is becoming very traumatizing.  Darts are flying in all directions while I am innocently trying to clean the house.

Those two little mischievous boys better learn how to cook up the spoils of their hunting and gathering because this mom may be too shell-shocked to get off the couch.

See what I mean?  This was about 2 years ago, and they have only gotten better with time and practice.  I'm doomed.