Don't Shoot!

Landon LOVES camouflage. Because camouflage means HUNTING! Before Landon was born, Tim and I had many serious talks about how we were going to "raise" our child. (Oh, we were so naive!) Because I wasn't raised around "hunters, I've never liked it. It horrifies me. (Much like my fishing feelings.) Tim "breathes" hunting. So, I made Tim promise me that we would let our child decide if he/she wanted to hunt, when they were old enough to make that decision for themselves. If they chose to be a hunter, then they could take the appropriate hunting safety classes when they were of age, and then they could go hunting.
Oh yeah. Right.
When Landon was TWO years old, Tim told me they were going to go for a ride out in the country and look for pheasants. When I heard the van pull up into the driveway, I went outside to ask them if they saw any pheasants. This is what I saw!!!

2 dead pheasants = 2 happy campers!!

Doesn't Tim have that cheesy

" Gee, am I in the dog house?"
 "look?"

He was!

Then he was three, and it's never ended.

He's hooked.

I'll never forget the car ride we took when Landon was three.

 We were driving down the road when a million geese flew overhead.

I made a comment something like,

 "Look at all the geese, Landon! Aren't they pretty?"

Landon yelled  from the back seat,

 "Turn around!!! I need to go back and get my gun!!!!

I wanna shoot 'em!!!"

( He had a toy rifle.)

Kinda took the joy right out of that car ride, it did.

This year, Landon wants to sit with Tim

in the deer stand they built.

I want to puke.

I'd go with them to make sure he stays safe,

but then I'd be the crazy lady heard screaming through the woods,

"Doooon't shooooot it!!! Pleeease don't shoot that pretty deer!!!

Nooooo.....pleeeease doooooon't shoooooot...."

Then Tim would duct tape my mouth shut

and stick me in the trunk for the rest of the day.

I'll just stay home and puke.