Sunday morning at the match, I was cutting up a poster with 100 squares on it for a drawing, to give away a gun, and some door prizes. I needed someone to draw the names out of the bucket, and I saw a little girl run past. She's the daughter of two of our shooters. Under ten years old, pretty little girl, precocious and full of life I figured she'd be perfect to draw the names, and while I was cutting up the board, Dad wanders by.
"Hey, Buck" I called out. "That little girl of yours. The middle one?"
He stopped dead in his tracks. "Omigod, what did she do now?"
"No, no, nothing like that," I told him. "Can I use her today during the awards to draw some names out of a bucket?"
"Yeah, sure," he says, "But when you called me I thought she was in trouble."
Kids are like that sometimes.