Choices...

We all have our choices to make, and living with the choices we make is one of the hallmarks of reaching adulthood. Like the choice I made yesterday: I had planned on going to the range once the Mrs. got home; I loaded up magazines, gathered up targets, prepped the range bag; I was all set. Even though it was 15 degrees outside, I was prepared with layers and everything - besides, I reasoned, I'll most likely have the range to myself.

And then, after I loaded my box of targets into the truck (but before I'd brought out the range bag), my son comes up to me: "Hey dad, wanna toss the football around?"

Full stop. Target box out of the truck. Range bag back in the safe. "Sure thing pal".

He's 11. We're already seeing signs of dumb ol' dad not being good enough; hearing "Dad! You're embarrassing me" (my stock response to this one is always "Good! That means I'm doing my job right"); he's trying to figure out his place in the pack; how he and his old man relate; etc. The moments where we do connect are getting more scarce (though they're still there, thank goodness); so I take every opportunity to interact with my son on other-than-disciplinarian levels.

We spent over an hour in the frigid, windy weather tossing a football back and forth (for the record, our best effort was 23 consecutive catches-and-throws; it's important to my son - and all young men, I would surmise - to continually be striving to beat one's record). I learned that my son can throw a football much better than I can (on its face that's not saying much - I suck at throwing a football - but he's got a nice tight spiral) but I can catch a football better; I also learned that when we are not fighting the age-old battle for alpha wolf position, we relate pretty well.

It's funny how things can change; I had planned on being outside in the cold for a period of time yesterday, and I accomplished that objective. While I didn't get to shoot the guns I'm reviewing, nor practice any defensive shooting, I got to spend some time with my son doing something he enjoys. While it's not my thing (I'd have rather shot baskets with him), I know it's important to him so I made time for it - I'm the dad, that's what I do. My career as a competitive shooter will just have to wait until after football season.

Was it better than going to the range? You betcha...

That is all.