When my children were younger it took very little effort to beat them in competitions. In fact, I almost had to lie down and stop trying for them to win. Oh, how the tides have turned.
Over the weekend, we spend some time down at the new laser tag place in town. Of course I had to rib my children in the hours leading up.
“Crush them,” I said. “I’d take ‘em down.” I promised.
I had them so keyed up by the time we got there my kids had decided this was going to be an epic fight of them vs us (the old guys/parents).
Me and my husband rolled our eyes and waltz to our bunker. With our superior experience we both thought we’d steamroll right over these monkeys.
The little buggers moved far quicker than I could anymore. I crouched to hide, they found me every time. They crouched to hide, I missed their hiding spot and they shot me. Fine, I pushed for speed, but my efforts to chase one down got me shot in the back multiple times. Dead. Dead. Dead—so many times I stopped counting. My husband didn’t fare much better. By the time the siren sounded, we had lost—and it wasn’t even close!
Now I can’t speak for my husband, but I had been trying, which is what I think bothers me the most. I always knew one day my children would surpass me just as I caught then surpassed my parents, but seriously? I thought I’d be way older when that happened—like ninety.