Oh, there's my dad.
He used to take me shooting when I was a kid. I never found the pleasure in it. It was boring. I preferred exploring the nearby desert.
Once, I came home to find a child-sized rifle leaning against the wall in my bedroom. "For you!" *nudge* "Eh? Eh??" Big smile.
There was no room in my life for a tiny rifle. I lived and played (did I mention? I was 9) around it until it finally disappeared.
Sorry, dad.
