My kids could probably kick your ass. Not they'd want to; they're actually very kind and loving.

Two years ago a new taekwon do studio opened near our home. One summer day as we drove by it, my then 4-year-old son Evan said, "I want a karate uniform, please!"

After Frank and I talked it over, I scheduled a meeting with the school's owner and then signed Evan up for karate lessons.

Last night Evan earned his blue belt and is now half way to becoming a black belt. Just before he fell asleep he said, "I'm earning my black belt and then I'm quitting."

Absurd as it is to say it, my 6-year-old has had weapons training. He knows how to use nunchukus and a single stick (it looks like a policeman's baton, but foam-padded). He knows how to punch and kick and disarm an attacker, but more importantly, he knows when not to use those skills.

After watching her big brother's twice-weekly classes, Flynn declared last December that she wanted to be a "karate girl." She would walk around the house copying the moves Evan was learning. Occasionally, I'd hear her cute little girl voice yelling from somewhere in the house, "Front kick! Side kick! Power punch!"

We made her wait until her 4th birthday to join the Tiny Tigers class (for kids ages 4-6) and she is now half-way to earning her yellow belt. Not too shabby for a girl who wants to be a princess when she grows up.

I'm so proud of my karate kids.