At our house, you must either be adept at Double-Pop-A-Shot or ducking, one of the two. We are perhaps the only home in America where you MUST play ball in the house. The two-hooped mini basketball shooting game sits in the corner of the living room only because my wife refused to have it in the center.
Alas, the pop-a-shot's days ended this Christmas, and we took it outside for one last farewell game of H-O-R-S-E before trashing it. My son Jake won with a 57-foot swish, then I attempted a heroic shot I'd been thinking about for five years.
When Jake finally stopped crying with laughter at the injuries I incurred, he asked a question I hadn't even thought of: "Why didn't you move it onto the grass first?"