Bulls between the eyes

I truly enjoy playing darts. In fact, I like most sports where there is a target, and the point of the game is to hurl, throw, thrust, or shoot, something at that target. Darts, bowling, shooting, archery, skeet ball. The all of it.

I’ve been this way since a very early age. But I loved all sports when I was much younger. It didn’t matter back then. Whenever I would play a game…all by myself… I would make-believe I was incredible. The star of the game.

I’d be out in the backyard, shooting hoops, pretending there were just mere seconds left on the clock. I would charge the lane, dribble behind my back, and put in a layup to win the game. The crowd would go wild. The cheering.  The roar.

But now there are darts. In the summer time, I hang a dart board on our house. In the area of our back door patio, near the pool. This evening I was out shooting for a moment, practicing bullseyes. Every time I hit one, I heard little cheers and flappy clapping. For a moment, I thought I was regressing back to my eight-year-old self.

And then I noticed. I heard it again. And there, sitting in a small flower pot, right next to the dart holder, was the toad. Not just any toad. But one with a heart full of admiration for a well-thrown bullseye. Clapping his little-webbed feet, and cheering, in mini-croaks.

I felt young again.

In the midst of a great fan. Toadally.



“There is an innocence in admiration: it occurs in one who has not yet realized that they might one day be admired.” 
― Friedrich Nietzsche


“All children should be taught to unconditionally accept, approve, admire, appreciate, forgive, trust, and ultimately, love their own person.” 
― Asa Don Brown


“Facebook gives people an illusory sense of being LIKED.” 
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana