I stand in the doorway to the kitchen. My boys curl around the corner wielding two sawed-off nerf shotguns, each loaded with 8 deadly projectiles. They smile at me. I remain nonplussed.

I look over their heads towards the front of our apartment. I tilt my head, raise my arm, and point towards the windows. They both turn their little bodies away from me and look.

I close the kitchen door, locking them in the other room, because they are dumb dumbs and I am and merely dumb.