It was a normal Sunday afternoon when I was in the park, along with my parents, siblings and cousins. We approached the dedicated area for children where we could see a lot many kids playing games like swinging, sliding, boating, cycling, riding a Ferris wheel and many more. I was so excited that I didn’t miss any of those games and played with added enthusiasm, along with my cousins of course. 
Suddenly I saw a middle-aged man who was standing beside the children’s park. He was carrying a wooden frame with balloons fastened with thin bars in between the wooden frame. An airsoft gun was hanging on his shoulder. He was inviting kids to come forward and shoot the balloons. My father looked at me, seeing me excited he asked me as if I wanted to play that game. I shook my head and he approached the balloon man and paid the bill in advance. It was the very first time I held the airsoft gun in my hands. This is perhaps in my genes; my father and his father had been soldiers of Pakistan Army. Although it was an airsoft gun, yet having it in my hands reminded me of my grandpa’s gun-holding picture hanging on our drawing room wall. 
The rifle-man taught me how to aim for shooting the balloons. He said if I could deflate 10 balloons, he would not charge a penny. I put my hand on the trigger and aimed at one of the balloons. Uff, I missed. Tried another. Missed. Then I realized something which I can’t explain. I held the gun and aimed a little below the target. Here the shot got the balloon burst. I had known the trick. One after the other I shot 9 balloons, successfully. But I deliberately left the tenth balloon unattended. I wanted to pay bucks to the poor rifle-man. I was very happy, my dad felt proud of me. My cousins also did shooting. It was really an amazing experience for me. I would love to do shooting again, and again.