Oh, that I had my camera with me… Yesterday, a friend of mine offered to watch my kids so I could go to the Temple. It was awesome of her, and my kids love playing at her house with her kids. They live on several acres out in the county, and there is dirt, hills, tall grass, tractors and things a-plenty for kids to have fun. It’s one of those situations where the kids hoot and holler with glee when I tell them where we are headed. As we pull in the long, gated dirt driveway, the boys can barely wait for the wheels to stop before they barrel out of the car and head off to boy-dirt-joy-nirvana.

After the temple, I ran by my house to pick up a plate of the Best Freaking Lemon Bars on Earth to give to my friend as thanks for watching the kids, and to 86 my heels for flip-flops. The sun was sinking low and making the light all Maxfield Parrish, the windows were rolled down to the let the surprisingly balmy July breeze wash over me and send my hair whipping around my head. It felt good.

As I pulled in the drive, there to the side of the barn were all my kids. The boys were dusty and happy, and Abby was wearing her Snow White dress (remember the one I made for her last year? that one.) as she marched across the dirt road, hand on her hip, and a pair of clear plastic safety goggles pushed back into her hair, and a Red Rider BB Gun over her shoulder. Yes, you read that right. There were little beads of sweat on her nose, and her dress was torn. “MOM! Brothers won’t get out of the way and let me have my turn!” And she spun on her heel and marched back towards the barn.

Now before anyone panics, my friend was camped out right next to the kids, and everyone had safety goggles on, and they had set up a bunch of root-beer cans on a large log. My friend is a scout leader, and teaches classes at scout camp on archery and BB guns. Each kid had a BB Gun, and they were all taking target practice. Bean was in absolute heaven. Jeff was bragging and claiming he could shoot the eye of a Jack of Spades at 50 paces (okay not really, but he likes to boast) but the best thing was Abby:

She marched herself right up to the firing line, planted her feet, cocked the BB Gun and leveled it at the tin cans. Ping! Ping! Ping! The Snow White dress blowing around her ankles, the back seam split open from vigorous playing (it IS a year old after all) and the fierce look of concentration on her face… it was a Norman Rockwell moment. And I didn’t have my camera.