I'm tired, annoyed I have to go to a meeting, and uninterested in getting wet. David has a new squirt gun.

Sending streams of water over trees and plants is fun for awhile, but he needs bigger, better, more Mommy-size targets. I tell him in a stern voice not to squirt me and amazingly we have five minutes of success.

I get distracted by the knee-high weeds in the vegetable garden and kneel down to pull, essentially making myself a static target.

David: Mommy, look at the cool way it squirts now.
Mommy: That's great, but watch where you are squirting. I'm over here.

I swear he doesn't actually aim at me, but I get wet.

Mommy: Arggh! That's it! Squirter off! I'm going in!

I set him up for failure; I knew he would fail; he fails.