Meet the Firing Squad

The Von Trapps were the Family Singers.

The Guckeens shall go down in history as the Family Spies & Interrogators.

Meet the Firing Squad for yourself.



(Also known as the eight loves of my life. Sorry Seth).

They look harmless enough with their sippy cups and their Easter dresses and their plates with their names on them. But for their poor single aunt who has an internet boyfriend their mommies and daddies are dying to know about, oh are they trouble.

They hide in small places, just waiting for the right moment to pop out and shriek, "What was Seth's rank upon leaving the Air Force?!"

What's proper protocol when you're scared out of your wits? Answer your assailant's question of course.



Or if their surprise attack doesn't work, they'll just beat it out of you.

The last time I checked, when a 4-year-old comes at you like this, you had better answer whether or not Seth is on any drugs, prescribed, illegal or otherwise.

The last time I was in a relationship serious enough to actually use the B-word, my crazy 8 was a mere fierce 5 and only half of them could actually string together the words, "Do you have a boyfriend?" much less care about my single status.

What a beautiful day it was in the neighborhood back then.

As my nieces and nephews have grown older and realized that to every Disney Princess, there is a Disney Prince, (and don't forget about Barbie and Ken, although last time I checked they were divorced) they have become more and more curious about why their aunt hasn't eaten the poisonous apple yet and found her Prince Charming.

Either that or they just enjoy the scrunched up look I get on my face whenever they mention the B-word in relation to me. But for once I got to delight in their facial expressions as for the first time in their lifetime they heard something they've never heard before when asking me whether or not I had a boyfriend.

"Yes."

*** Disclaimer***

No children were harmed in the creation of this post. And for the record, in case it gets out, I did not tell my four-year-old nephew I was going to steal his Easter basket just for the heck of it. I was provoked. He told me he wanted the "white team" (Stanford) to win instead of Marquette. And then they actually did. That certainly warrants me getting a share of his jelly beans.

No?