“So, no Nerf battle tonight?” he said.
My hands were chilled, my core felt like it was dropping 10th of a degree at a time. “No… no, actually, I’m ready for it. I’ve been sitting for a while.”
3 hours of studying, and probably about an hour and half trying learn how to code tables in html – I was ready to move around.
“I’ve been sitting for a while, so I’m ready to move around.”
So, it was settled. He went and got even more Nerf supplies than we’d had 2 nights ago when we did our first Nerf battle since finding our revolvers. It’d been 3 years since we’d both had ours, and he was taking full advantage of the situation, like we never had before.
It was great fun, again, with me losing most games, and him having unprecedented accuracy. The revolver is so accurate, versus any other Nerf gun he owned.
Then he dropped this helpful bit of info – “I was tracking you perfectly! I was like she’s going to be… there… and then!”
This harkened me back to Redwall days. “Duck bobble & weave” was what the hares always instructed newbies. I’d completely neglected these basic principles.
I smiled inwardly, as we set up for the next game.
I was on.
Ducking, bobbing, weaving. Ducking, weaving. Bobbing and ducking.
That was what my brain repeated “Duck, bobble, weave, duck…” I saw his face as he passed by and heard him exclaim, “What????”
I was foiling his plans! And also…
I analyzed my movements and started cracking up.
I was not ducking – bobbing – and weaving. I was duck-bob-weaveling. I would duck, weave my torso back and forth, and wave my Nerf gun in the air.
When I went to take a shot, I would duck, aim, then start the whole misinterpreted dance all over again.
I told him what had happened after we finished and we had a good laugh over it.
Then he said how it looked from his perspective.
“Now that you mention it, I noticed that.
I remember passing by, and looking, and going” he imitated his seeing me in slow motion, “and it was like hashtag #What The! It was so funny it was just like WHAT the?!?”
Then as we kept losing Nerf darts, he mentioned about how we’d probably find them when we move. “But then we wouldn’t care, anymore.”he said.
I went, “Awwww 😦 ”
And he said, “Oh, no! I just meant, ‘We’re moving, oh- there’s a dart, well, just throw in the trash’ you know?’ Nah, no… I’ll be 80 and we’ll be like — Aaaaahhh” as he imitated an old man playing Nerf, and getting hit in the chin bravely “and you’ll be like ‘Haaaa! [x#] of years younger!!!’ We should DO that! Go to nursing homes and have Nerf battles…”
It made me glad he saw us still playing Nerf battles when we are that old.
And it also made me realize. I feel like I’ll be all alone, navigating that territory by myself, when I’m old. And there seems little reason to live with the old age I see, and hear, others experience (sorry, wonderful old people).
But if life goes as typical (which is what I’m concerned about), then he will be in it, too, for a good long time.
At the very end, he said, “Well… I guess that’s it.” I didn’t really know what he was aiming at since we were both tired, and realized the lateness of the hour. He went on, “Well, I guess I just hoped Mom would be home and she’d have joined us.” Awww.
So, vell zat was fun!