My husband ( J Summ at The Oh, bama Files) and I re-discovered a wonderful pastime last weekend. Our children have finally gotten to a somewhat manageable age, meaning they pay attention and do what they are told for five minutes (okay, maybe four and a half), then you must gently remind them again to pay attention. A vast improvement from last year when the time limit was about sixty seconds. With the improved attention spans of the kiddos and two adults to control mayhem should it occur, we headed out for adventure.
We found it at a trap range near our sometimes tolerable fair city. We used to enjoy shooting B.K. (before kids), and I was looking forward to getting back at it. I grew up in a household where I knew that my Dad owned a gun, but I never knew where it was, and he never taught me how to use it. My husband taught me to shoot at the ripe old age of nineteen, while we were dating. He did a great job, too, as I used to out-shoot him regularly (well, at least once in awhile), sometimes with his own gun.
I was a bit nervous when I first went up to shoot, as it had been at least three or four years since I had been out. The range has voice activated pull, which was really nice. That meant my husband could easily count my few hits and many misses, while also keeping track of the kids. The first round of twenty-five, I hit a whopping eight with my 20-gauge (pheasants need not worry about me-yet). J Summ hit seventeen with his 12-gauge. In the second round, I broke double digits (11) with hubby's 12-gauge. He hit sixteen with my shotgun. My daughter enjoyed watching us so much that her comment as we finished was, "Okay, Momma, now it's my turn!" We had to explain to her that we would gladly let her try when she was older (she is currently seven).
I tested this theory. Turns out it's true.
We stopped on the way into the office to watch a group of men shoot skeet. It looks like a lot of fun, but I know it is not for me. Those clay pigeons flat boogie out of the houses. I bet I couldn't track half of them as they flew out. Wow!!
When we went into the office to pay, it was the usual testosterone-filled gun club atmosphere. One of the old coots asked, "So, you gonna teach them boys to shoot?" My reply was, "Yes, and the girl, too!" None of our kids are old enough to learn yet, but they already understand that guns are tools, not toys. We are both looking forward to teaching them how to shoot, when they are older. For now they think it is just as fun to cheer us on when we actually hit a clay pigeon.
The family outing was a success, and we plan on making the range at least two times a month. Then those pheasant better look out!