It snowed today, yippee! I love snow. Always have, especially because I've always had a warm-ish place to come home to. We're a little stingy in the heating department, but the near frostbite of being outside too long makes you appreciate a lukewarm apartment.
My problem is this. The kids want to have snowball fights, but, understandably, they don't want to get hit in the face. Not really a problem; I aim at their bellies and below.
But kids are short. And though they've been informed that I'm not aiming at their heads, they duck. And ducking is, by definition, a downward movement.
Not only that, out of twenty snowballs thrown, a few go off target; and when I miss, I tend to land a bullseye - or kidseye, as it were.
So tonight I made both kids cry in the snow. Pitiful, sobby, spittle-ridden, drooly WAAAAHs.
Because I whopped them both in the face with a ball that was packed harder than they can pack so I can aim better to miss them in the first place.