I enrolled my kid in fencing classes.
In truth, I wanted to take them as well, but they didn’t have enough adult interest to form a full class so I was ousted. Also, I’m apparently too big for the kid class!
Instead, my 8-year-old Biscuit fences every week and I listen intently to everything the instructor says. Parry four, en guard, epee versus foil versus saber. Maintain distance between the fencers. When one steps forward, the other steps back. Riposte. Recovery. Disengage.
Oh my stars, it’s a world I’ve always wanted to be in. Now I’m living vicariously through my child.
But it gets worse. When we get home, we pull out our light sabers and Biscuit walks me through the steps. (Yes, I have my own light saber. It’s blue. And awesome. And lights up. It even makes the vvvvOOOO sound.)
Then, we fence. I give no quarter. He shows no mercy.
We are evenly matched, due to the fact that he’s in real classes and I’m out of shape.
En guarde. Lunge. Parry Four. Touch.
I’m in historical writer heaven…