A while back we scoped out the nearby paintball field and Cookie was saddened to see that you had to be ten years old to play. And so began the countdown. In fact, the weekend before his birthday we went to Dicks (heh, Dicks) to buy ourselves some paintball facemasks -- we were making ready.

Today, we hit the field and made a day of it. The upshot: he's one Tough Cookie. And I am one out of shape old man. (All those deep-knee bends and duckwalking to keep the cover of odd-shaped obstructions has my legs super-sore already -- and that's just going to get worse tomorrow.)

Anyway, Cookie had a great time and that's all that matters. It is a pretty intense game and I knew he was a little nervous at first. We stuck together for the first few rounds and he got the feel for it. After I took a direct hit to the neck (yeah, ouch) I sat out what I thought would be only one or two more games. Cookie kept going back in; in the last game they let him pick the teams. He was by far the youngest player on the field all day, and everyone seemed quite amused at his willingness to play and his ability to take a hit (those friggin' paintballs hurt).

He even got hit in the neck, almost in the same place I got it. Now we have matching welts.

Tomorrow I'm taking a vacation day. I was going to drive around and get a bunch of things done. But if my hamstrings are screaming the way they are now, I think I'll just lie around and vegetate. Because what's better than that?