We recently went to Academy to do some early (ish) Christmas shopping. The plan was basically that the boys would play around on the little practice putting green while Juliet and I did the more civilized shopping . . . like in the children's shoe section . . . or the outdoor cooking section . . . or the pretty much anywhere but the golf section.
Yet, somehow, there we all four were while Juliet and Robby battled for ground on the green, each sure that his/her golf ventures were more crucial than the other's. My attempts to lure Juliet off the putting green were entirely unsuccessful, and the final whisking away involved real tears (just hers, though I don't think a few tears on my part would have been wholly unjustified...)
I have heard all of the great benefits of golf. Trust me, golf runs thickly in the veins of both sides of the family. But, when I think of being a golf mom, all I can picture is my mother walking 36 holes in both pouring rain and scorching heat without being able to really talk to anyone or getting breaks to eat. No thank you. I am resigned to having one golfer in the family. But, two? That is just cruel.
I have hatched plans already to prevent any further interest on my daughter's part for this strangely alluring sport. My plans include new clothes, new toys, a later bedtime, access to sweets.....in short--whatever it takes.
Though, now that I think about it, maybe my real plan should be highly encouraging her to take up golf. It seems to me that even at the tender age of one, she has figured out that if Mommy thinks it is okay to play with, there is probably something more fun to be had somewhere. Of course, golf clubs are just destructive enough that she might figure out that they are actually a great thing to get her hands on after all.
Why am I starting to feel like I am already sunk on this one?????
