Fore! and Fie on you, oh sillyhearts!

It's 2:00 in the afternoon, and I only just made my bed. I have had far more important things to do that housework and parenting. In fact, I began the day with an early morning golf game. Kara and I are practically experts at golf. She and I met whilst the dew was yet upon the lawn, and proceeded forth in a dignified manner. Sort of.
Kara gets really sweet on the golf course by saying disproportionately encouraging things about everything I do. She's quite believable. In fact, she often has me convinced that I am amazing. The problem with that is that I want to help her become amazing like me, so I start trying to teach her. This is totally how I am (have you met me?!) I have no idea how to play golf correctly, but I'm out there shouting tips on her swing, and demonstrating my idea of technic. It's beyond laughable. I may need therapy.
She's real patient though; sometimes she acts like she's even listening. She knows me well enough to know that any minute I'll realize what an ass I am, and then I'll laugh at myself and shut up for a minute.
She even keeps applauding my inconsistent attempts to play this gentleman's sport.

Aaron is learning to play golf. We have him enrolled in lessons twice a week, which is about the only way we can get him involved in sports. This is my child with zero athletic prowess, and so finding something that would count as P.E. for him was something of a challenge. Golf is right up his alley, though, because there is no actual physical exertion.
Tim was commenting that we should take Aaron golfing on Sunday, and this was when the error in my plan occurred to me. If he knows how to golf, then we would ideally spend time with him on the golf course......but my favorite part of golfing is the fact that it is such a very grown-up thing to do. There are seldom children out there, no one is noisy, and everyone minds their manners. Plus, they all dress so well. There's rumored to be adult beverages and cigars allowed in this sport, though I have yet to see that aspect in action. Why, in the name of all that is pleasant, would I adulterate this blissful atmosphere with a person under the age of 21? Or, 17 and mature, at the very least. Alas!

Alas. Perhaps we'll explore the idea of adult beverages after all.