He’s No Spring Chicken but….

We had another playdate with the kiddies, an event that I cherish because I know that the chance always exists that the coronavirus may result in losing those visits again. Each time one of us ventures away from our homes, we discuss our movements and decide if the activity requires a quarantine from our two families again.

Our visit was primarily indoors because it had been rainy, so after some marble races, bed making, and a few rounds of Mancala, it was time for another round of indoor miniature golf. (Remember how we played in January.  Fore !) Bryce went to work in the dining room while Dad took a quick nap. He had awoken before 4:00 am that day so he needed to close his eyes for a few minutes.

The holes consisted of a few chairs, boxes, a rolled up drawing, and a couple of placemats. I practiced with the kids until it was time to wake up. When it was Dad’s turn (he thought) to try it out, he grabbed the putter but was stopped dead in his tracks when Bryce said so innocently, “You should skip this hole, Bampa. You are too old.”

What an incentive that statement was! Daddy lined up the shot and took a swing. Aha! It was a hole in one! So much for old age.

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