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thisnewdayOur youngest daughter, Sarah, has taken our grandson, Little Jay, to the neighborhood golf course a couple of times in recent weeks. Because he's only six, the clubs are actually taller than he is. Still, he had a good enough time, and seemed interested enough, that we decided to buy him a kid-size club, a few styrofoam practice balls, and a bag of colorful tees that caught his eye at Wal-Mart.
Since then, he's been out on our postage stamp-size front lawn, on every halfway decent day, driving practice balls down the street and showering the sidewalk and driveway with dandelion and quackgrass divots. I can't really coach him, because I've never golfed, but he's got a ferocious swing and has driven a couple of tee shots several houses down when he's made good contact.
So I just tell him what a good swing he has, even when he misses, and try not to be in the path of the club if it happens to get loose. (I also try not to laugh because it's pretty funny to see such a little kid wailing away at it the way that he does.) I also chase down any balls that actually make it out of the front yard, although there is one under the neighbor's front porch that'll never see daylight again.
Anyway, his mom was dropping him off at the house, after having him for the afternoon, and as she stepped into the living room, her eyes immediately went to the set of clubs we'd bought for Sarah two years ago. It's a pretty nice set and I'm sure she was wondering how the little boy's dad could possibly have the time and money for golf when she's killing herself just to make ends meet.
So she says, ever so casually, "Oh, who plays golf?" And before I can open my mouth, Little Jay proudly chimes in with, "I do!" and runs to get his new club to show his mom. Afterward, I told my wife that it was just like the credit card ad: child's golf club, $12.95; practice balls and tees $6.49; his mom's reaction, priceless...
Since then, he's been out on our postage stamp-size front lawn, on every halfway decent day, driving practice balls down the street and showering the sidewalk and driveway with dandelion and quackgrass divots. I can't really coach him, because I've never golfed, but he's got a ferocious swing and has driven a couple of tee shots several houses down when he's made good contact.
So I just tell him what a good swing he has, even when he misses, and try not to be in the path of the club if it happens to get loose. (I also try not to laugh because it's pretty funny to see such a little kid wailing away at it the way that he does.) I also chase down any balls that actually make it out of the front yard, although there is one under the neighbor's front porch that'll never see daylight again.
Anyway, his mom was dropping him off at the house, after having him for the afternoon, and as she stepped into the living room, her eyes immediately went to the set of clubs we'd bought for Sarah two years ago. It's a pretty nice set and I'm sure she was wondering how the little boy's dad could possibly have the time and money for golf when she's killing herself just to make ends meet.
So she says, ever so casually, "Oh, who plays golf?" And before I can open my mouth, Little Jay proudly chimes in with, "I do!" and runs to get his new club to show his mom. Afterward, I told my wife that it was just like the credit card ad: child's golf club, $12.95; practice balls and tees $6.49; his mom's reaction, priceless...
