Tiger Woods, we are not.
This afternoon I found myself home alone with the kids once again — not like I don’t do this all week or anything. To save my sanity, I decided to get out of the house and do something fun. I considered the pool, but the story in the local newspaper last night of an almost-drowning incident at our YMCA sort of soured me on the whole idea.
Then in a moment of insanity I asked if the kids if they wanted to go mini-golfing. Well, they jumped all over that.
I wasn’t sure how it would go. My son has been before and knows the rules. What’s more, he LIKES rules. He doesn’t exactly appreciate the bending of the rules. Note the look of intense concentration.
My 6-year-old, on the other hand, has only been mini-golfing once. It was at a friend’s birthday party, and they weren’t exactly following the rule book.
And my 3-year-old had no idea what golfing even was until her brother gave her a quick lesson.
She rapidly hit her frustration point.
She decided to just follow along while the rest of us played. She particularly liked the shady tunnel.
My 6-year-old was enamored with her pink ball and pink club.
It actually went quite well. Nevermind that we spent more time fishing our balls out of the water than actually golfing. There was a father-son duo in front of us who got quite a kick out of our little troop.
I even decided to join in the fun. The Line of the Day goes to my son, who proclaimed when I got a hole in two, “That’s pretty good for a mom!”
Thanks for the vote of confidence, dear.
He took his game quite seriously, but amazingly had a great deal of patience for his flighty sisters.
About halfway through the game, my 3-year-old decided to give it another chance. She wound up doing pretty well.
Of course we rounded out the game with ice cream for all.
We won’t be winning any titles any time soon, but a good time was had by all.