not the sporty type
Every summer, we try to get the Little Guy to do something athletic. Last year, he did baseball camp for two days; as far as he’s concerned, he can cross that sport off his list for life. This summer, he says he wants to do golf. Golf camp at my school is pretty expensive, but we found out that there’s a less-expensive golf camp through the city, so we’ve signed him up. He has a number of reasons for choosing golf. He played it in school, and enjoyed it. His dad plays it, and so does the dad in FoxTrot. Both are role models. The biggest reason seems to be that it is “nature-ish.” As he says, “It’s more nature-ish than any other sport I know.”
My DH jokes that, between golf and the model trains, the Little Guy is having his retirement now.
The Little Guy is also excited by the prospect of owning his own golf clubs. Me, I’m counting the days until Miss Baby finds them and whacks him over the head with one, not out of rancor, but just because she’s the sort of person who will look at a golf club and think it’s made for whacking.