Gun Salute

Let me go on record by saying that I pity the potential intruder of our familial domicile.

We have some protocols in place that will preserve our safety and possessions in the event that a bad guy breaks into our home. Luckily, each person has a very different plan. Where one plan falls short, the other is strong.

Together, we have built the Nelson Fortress of Love. . .and Pain.

My plan is what you'd expect of any average American housewife. I've always relied heavily on dead bolts and window locks. I bought a dog with a loud voice--like, the kind of loud where the whole neighborhood knows when the Fed Ex man is approaching our door. I don't answer the phone if I don't recognize the number on caller ID. I look out the window before I answer the door. I close all our blinds and curtains at dusk. We have flood lights surrounding the perimeter of our home. My neighbor has our house key. We are friends with the local police officers.

But when we lived in Baltimore, I perfected my safety protocol.

Maybe it's because Baltimore isn't exactly the safest American city, or maybe it's because one of our good Baltimorean friends was a hunting guide for President Eisenhower. Either way, I have Baltimore life to thank for my total embrace of the Second Amendment.

For my birthday one year, my husband gave me a hand gun; for Mother's Day that same year, I got a laser sight for it. I started to receive other weapons for other various celebrations. I discovered that my shot gun is my weapon of choice, with the MP5 being a close second.

In accordance with these gifts, my husband also had me run drills. You know--basic usage drills, where I had to change the mag, load the gun, and aim in a matter of seconds. He also took me to the trap shooting range, where I received shooting tips from the old timers who lived there. I became comfortable with my guns. I felt a power in my ability to defend myself; I found out my weakness is cordite.

All of these developments were important, because in Maryland, you must warn an intruder that you are going to shoot them before you discharge your weapon.

Whaaaat?? You mean someone breaks into my home with the intent to hurt or steal, and I have to politely issue a warning? I don't believe in warnings; my children don't even get them. Counting to ten before I act? ((Snort!)) You know the rule; don't test me! The sound of my shot gun getting some buck shot in the chamber and my competitive, "Pull!" would be your warning.

Let's just say I feel prepared to face a bad guy.

My husband has also done his part to defend our Fortress of Love and Pain. Each passing year increases the number of weapons in our various gun safes, all of which are strategically located around the house. His arsenal would make a small country worried about a Nelson Invasion. He's stocked up on ammo. He's obtained a concealed carry permit. He practices his shot at the shooting range. We watch every episode of Top Shot. He's best friends with my Uncle Assassin. His right to bear arms will not be infringed upon. He will protect his posterity for as far as his muzzle will reach.

Oh, he's ready.

Put us together, and our genes dance around a bit until we get two smart, capable, ingenious boys. Their safety measures consist mostly of muscles and...school supplies.

My oldest is growing like a weed. He lifts weights. He flexes daily and measures the growth. He reads "How to do Judo Moves" and other self defense books. He tries out his strength on siblings; he scrimmages with his dad. He climbs door jambs for overhead attacks. He practices stealth mode for sneak attacks. He's a deliberate thinker with strategic maneuvers in place.

Today he told me that if a bad guy comes, he would punch them in the stomach. After the wind was knocked out of Bad Guy, he'd grab a pen and color on Bad Guy's cheeks. After knocking Bad Guy completely out, he'd grab a Sharpie and in big, bold letters write "I LOVE UNICORNS" on the intruder's forehead. And with a final, debilitating blow, he would scribble, "My Belly Button is Fatter than Yours" on Bad Guy's gut.

He laughed maniacally/hysterically about all this.

So did his younger brother.

Son Two has basically the same muscle-building regimen as Son One. This summer, when other children were playing on the homemade slip-n-slide, Son Two was building his body. He's only seven and his physique is already impressive. I expect he'll register his arms as deadly weapons in a matter of not many years.

In addition to his brute strength, his Nelson Fortress Protection Plan also includes supplies from his backpack--sharpened pencils, to be exact.

This boy's patience and diligence are unmatched. He can sharpen the same pencil for hours. Patiently, with all manner of persistence, he hones that pencil tip into an exquisite point that would make Chuck Norris flinch.

Today, after one of his sharpening sessions, he held up the pencil tip for me to see. It glinted in the glow from the kitchen can lights. He twirled it ever so slowly and said, "If a bad guy comes, I'll use this in his eyeball. . .or his bum!"

I was like, Ouch!

Our daughters have not yet planned out their actions in the event of a habitation intrusion, them being female and all. But I spend a lot of time with these chicks, and I'm pretty sure I know what they'd do.

In a Charlie's Angels-esque way, acting as a triple threat, Daughter One would start in on a long narration, full of questions and commitment snares, thus confusing the bad guy with her innate ability to cripple by chatter.  This would happen while Daughter Three would cry at the top of her lungs, rupturing Bad Guy's unprotected ear drums and debilitating better than a taser. Then with curls bouncing and eyes dancing, Daughter Two would skip onto the scene and kill with her insane cuteness.

Individually, any one of these would be effective defense mechanisms. But put them all together, and Bad Guy would be dead before he even knew what was coming.

All I'm saying is, the preservation of your family is worth every preparation you can make. If you don't have that natural killer instinct, turn to your family. They will probably have some great, original ideas, and you'll find out for yourself that united, you stand strong!

And if you're a bad guy, all I'm saying is,

"PULL!"