We just spent a week at the beach. A nice, long relaxing week on the Carolina coast, complete with perfect temperatures and lots of sunshine. Relaxing days spent lounging in the sand, reading, and building castles. Relaxing mornings spent looking for shells on the shores of Cape Lookout. Relaxing afternoons spent playing in the waves, or paddling a canoe through a nature preserve to see the wild horses that live there. We even had relaxing dinners full of great food, fun conversation and good wine.
And then we decided to throw a game of putt-putt golf into the mix. Have you ever played 18 holes of putt-putt with 4 kids ages 5, 4, 3 and 2? Entertaining? Yes. Hilarious? You bet. Relaxing? No. Not really. In fact, not even close. It was chaos. Pure, out-and-out, unadulterated chaos.
Oh, the excitment was in the air the moment we walked in the door. The kids were buzzing with it. They each got their own club -- even my 2 year old neice, Rylie. Of course hers was of the plastic variety. But not the others. No sir. The rest of them got the real deal. And they also got to pick out their very favorite color of golf ball. Yes folks, the excitement was in the air when we left the clubhouse and headed for the course. I, in my obliviousness made sure to grab a score card and a pencil, and stopped to write each child's name in a slot.
Once we were out the door, our herd of stampeding kids went in one direction, and the 3 adults went in the other. ("Kids! Kids!! KIDS!!!!! Over here! No, not that way! THIS WAY!! Yes, I promise -- THIS is where we're supposed to start.") We somehow managed to get the stampede to stop, turn around, and head in our direction. Finally, we got them all lined up at the first hole. The first child stepped up to the line and putted, and then walked down the green toward the hole to fininsh his turn. All of a sudden, the rest of the kids were at the starting line and the shots were flying. And I was still delusional enough to think we would keep score. ("OK, how many was that for you Gibson? 20? Maddie? You got 18? Good Girl! Landis, Landis..... You can't just pick up the ball and put it in the hole. Start from here. Wait... Wait.... Gibson! Let it roll. Let it roll! Don't stop it! Wait.... Rylie! Honey! Don't bend over to get your ball if someone is swinging their club! Gibson! Don't swing your club if Rylie is getting her ball! Landis... How many for you? 23? Great! That may be a new putt-putt record! Wait!! Wait!! We're not going over there. Follow Uncle Josh. Follow Uncle Josh!") For the next 3 holes, I continued to diligently count strokes amid the shouting of instructions to the whirling dervish. It wasn't until my brother looked at me with a colossal amount of skepticism and said "Seriously?! You're keeping SCORE?" that I realized the futility of my task. I'm not sure where the scorecard and pencil ended up, or what I was even thinking in the first place, but I didn't have it with me on hole 5.
Throughout the 18 holes we did our best to implement some sort of structure to our undulating mass. "Let's all sit down! Let's take turns! Let's go one at a time! Let's wait until Maddie is done before we charge the starting line...." But regardless of how and what we tried, the end result was always the same: A wild, frenzied tangle of kids, all within striking distance of each other, swinging their metal clubs with absolute glee. And hard little golf balls going in every direction except the hole.
So, it wasn't relaxing. And maybe it was chaotic. But it sure was fun -- especially for the 4 sweaty little heads that skipped across the parking lot, climbed back into the mini-van and buckled into their car seats. And when you're 5, or 4, or 3, or 2, or even 34, isn't that what vacation should be about?
And then we decided to throw a game of putt-putt golf into the mix. Have you ever played 18 holes of putt-putt with 4 kids ages 5, 4, 3 and 2? Entertaining? Yes. Hilarious? You bet. Relaxing? No. Not really. In fact, not even close. It was chaos. Pure, out-and-out, unadulterated chaos.
Oh, the excitment was in the air the moment we walked in the door. The kids were buzzing with it. They each got their own club -- even my 2 year old neice, Rylie. Of course hers was of the plastic variety. But not the others. No sir. The rest of them got the real deal. And they also got to pick out their very favorite color of golf ball. Yes folks, the excitement was in the air when we left the clubhouse and headed for the course. I, in my obliviousness made sure to grab a score card and a pencil, and stopped to write each child's name in a slot.
Once we were out the door, our herd of stampeding kids went in one direction, and the 3 adults went in the other. ("Kids! Kids!! KIDS!!!!! Over here! No, not that way! THIS WAY!! Yes, I promise -- THIS is where we're supposed to start.") We somehow managed to get the stampede to stop, turn around, and head in our direction. Finally, we got them all lined up at the first hole. The first child stepped up to the line and putted, and then walked down the green toward the hole to fininsh his turn. All of a sudden, the rest of the kids were at the starting line and the shots were flying. And I was still delusional enough to think we would keep score. ("OK, how many was that for you Gibson? 20? Maddie? You got 18? Good Girl! Landis, Landis..... You can't just pick up the ball and put it in the hole. Start from here. Wait... Wait.... Gibson! Let it roll. Let it roll! Don't stop it! Wait.... Rylie! Honey! Don't bend over to get your ball if someone is swinging their club! Gibson! Don't swing your club if Rylie is getting her ball! Landis... How many for you? 23? Great! That may be a new putt-putt record! Wait!! Wait!! We're not going over there. Follow Uncle Josh. Follow Uncle Josh!") For the next 3 holes, I continued to diligently count strokes amid the shouting of instructions to the whirling dervish. It wasn't until my brother looked at me with a colossal amount of skepticism and said "Seriously?! You're keeping SCORE?" that I realized the futility of my task. I'm not sure where the scorecard and pencil ended up, or what I was even thinking in the first place, but I didn't have it with me on hole 5.
Throughout the 18 holes we did our best to implement some sort of structure to our undulating mass. "Let's all sit down! Let's take turns! Let's go one at a time! Let's wait until Maddie is done before we charge the starting line...." But regardless of how and what we tried, the end result was always the same: A wild, frenzied tangle of kids, all within striking distance of each other, swinging their metal clubs with absolute glee. And hard little golf balls going in every direction except the hole.
So, it wasn't relaxing. And maybe it was chaotic. But it sure was fun -- especially for the 4 sweaty little heads that skipped across the parking lot, climbed back into the mini-van and buckled into their car seats. And when you're 5, or 4, or 3, or 2, or even 34, isn't that what vacation should be about?
4 comments:
Mini golf is the BEST! My family always played on vacations. One of our favorite stories is the time my brother swung his club all the way around and clocked himself in the head (I know, I know, it shouldn't be funny, but he was ok and it looked hilarious). I still get excited whenever I see a mini golf place. Let's build one here!
Love the picture. You all look very tan and happy.
Such a good story. So glad I stayed at the beach and missed the fun. xxoo MOM
Sara said the very same thing! I'm sure the beach was very enjoyable in a MUCH different way!
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