oldkicker
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- Joined
- Aug 23, 1999
- Messages
- 9,835
Quite a deal we got at the new putt putt place. Two hours of golf for $4 per kid. All things considered, we're happy that Katie wants to do this for her birthday. They have an ice cream stand there, so we can get some golfing in and have a treat afterwards (this after having pizza, wings and cake at the house).
We split the girls into two groups of four and head to the first tee. Sharon and I are going to keep score and not play.
Things start off well enough. Some of the girls just mash the ball and it goes flying off the course, careening wildly. Others hit it far too softly and the ball doesn't make it to the top of the hill and rolls back to the tee. But, we're off!
There's a man-made river flowing through the center of the course. It seems to come into play on every other hole. Somewhere along the way the girls wonder if golf balls float or sink. It's not too long until one of them whacks it into the water to find out. It floats. Now, it seems, each of the girls wonders if ALL golf balls float, or, more specifically, if their golf ball floats. Soon the little creek is full of brightly colored golf balls and a pack a wild girls, carrying clubs is running alongside the water, cheering their balls on.
The little river dumps into several collection areas and there are nets nearby. Sharon and I collect up all of the balls and try to get this thing back on track.
At first each girls had completed their turn on each hole, hitting it as many times as it took to get it in the hole before the next girl took her turn. I, very unwisely, tell them that they should each take their first shot and then the furthest from the hole should shoot. This leads to the game turning into some odd version of pool or maybe marbles or croquet. The girls figure out that it's a lot of fun to whack their ball into another one and send the other one flying. Some of the girls take exception to that and stand guard over their balls, ready to turn away any ball that comes close.
Then someone figures out that, with a little planning, they can hit the other ball and send it flying into (you guessed it) the water! It's two (or is it three?) games in one!!! We're back at the collection area, nets in hand, in no time. After a bit, we learn to station ourselves at the waters edge and kick the balls that appear to be waterbound back on course.
Some of the girls come up with a novel way to play and to protect their balls from being whacked into the water. They place their putter behind the ball and simply glide it along, pushing the ball forward until it comes to rest in the hole. "HOLE IN ONE!!", they shout. "Five!", Sharon and I write down.
It's a warm and sunny day out, so we've given each of the girls a water bottle, so they can stay hydrated. After four holes there are huge battles going on about which water bottle belongs to whom. After six holes there is a trail of half-empty water bottle littering the course. Only one girl has her water bottle left. It is unopened. Everyone eyes her water bottle jealously, just waiting for her to put it down. She senses that and plays the rest of the way with the water bottle tucked under her chin.
There is a group ahead of us, at the beginning of the day. It appears to be a grandpa and his grandson. The grandpa looks determined to ingore all of the commotion behind him. There are several groups in front of them, so they have nowhere to go. We catch up to them over the first couple of holes. The girls surround them as they are on the tee. It reminds me of vultures waiting for the beast to die. Or maybe a scene from Hitchcock's The Birds. How they put up with us, I'll never know. I guess grandpas just have that kind of patience built in.
Some of the girls get so frustrated that they decide that they are going to play for the HIGH SCORE! They are amazingly creative with their bad shots. Most end up taking six or seven shots from the tee. The numbers are astronomical. 20, 30, 40. The place is getting crowded....behind us. The groups ahead of us are fading away into the distance. We institute a five shot limit. The scorecards are littered with fives.
One of the girls discovers that the putter can be used as a ride! You hold the handle, with the club face on the ground. Stand on the club face with one leg and push off with the other. Voila! Instant spinning ride! Soon they're all doing it. Laughing and giggling. We let a group play through our two groups. We warn them to be careful as they weave through our whirling dervishes.
The tenth hole features a cave with a waterfall that flows over the outside of it. The hole is in the middle of the cave and the cave is more than lrage enough to walk around in. Ten of us go in. Eight of us come out.
What the heck?!?!?!?!?
Two of the girls have found a little nook in the cave, just big enough for two. They laugh when we find them.
Then everybody wants to hide in the little nook. Then they want to hide with one of the other girls. Let's see....how many combinations can eight girls, grouping in twos make? We try to herd them forward, but they leak back, two by two, to hide in the little nook. Somewhere along the line the group behind us hits and one of our girls gets in the way and knocks the ball back down to the tee. ACK!!! We're mortified!
The girls simmer down. For about 10 seconds.
One starts using the putter like a pool cue. Soon they all are. It's easier to aim, they find, and knock each others' balls into the water.
After 16 holes, it becomes apparent that they've run out of ideas and aren't really interested in playing any more. We are secrectly delighted.
Off we go to turn in our balls and putters and have an ice cream. "Are you done already?", the kid in the little building asks. We tilt our heads and look at him as if he were mad. We walk over to the other little building, the ice cream stand. We let the girls know that they can have a small cone or a small slushie. That, of course, leads to a chorus of "But we want milk shakes!!" So, we add milk shakes to the allowed list. All of the girls beging pushing to the little window,yelling out their orders. The girl inside the little building steps back a bit. Her eyes are wide. I think she may sense that there is a real possibility of a juvenile riot. We get the girls to organize themselves into a line and take turns. Many of the girls get a shake. Then one orders a pumpkin flavored cone. That stops everyone in their tracks. "Pumpkin?!?!? Nobody said they had pumpkin!!!" Now everyone holding a shake suddenly wants a pumpkin cone. They approach the poor girl at the window looking to trade their shakes back in again. The girl at the window looks like she wants to just slide her little window closed and go home. The girl with the pumpkin cone is like a goddess, striding forth amonth the masses, holding her cone aloft like the flaming torch of liberty, water bottle tucked neatly under her chin. The other girls, miserarble now with their shakes, slink around, eyes darting, envious and slightly angry. I order a large dish of pumpkin. And several spoons. Order is retored and revolution averted.
We sit in the shade and watch the unwanted milk shakes turn back to milk as the girls gather around that dish of pumpkin ice cream, devouring it in swift spoonfuls. They are delighted.
Somewhere along the way, one of the girls asks who won.
Sharon and I check the score cards and announce a tie. Over sixteen holes, each of the girls has a score of 80. They high five each other, congratulating themselves and each other on their remarkable skills.
Not their golfing skills, but their friendship skills.
All in all, they've beaten par.
We split the girls into two groups of four and head to the first tee. Sharon and I are going to keep score and not play.
Things start off well enough. Some of the girls just mash the ball and it goes flying off the course, careening wildly. Others hit it far too softly and the ball doesn't make it to the top of the hill and rolls back to the tee. But, we're off!
There's a man-made river flowing through the center of the course. It seems to come into play on every other hole. Somewhere along the way the girls wonder if golf balls float or sink. It's not too long until one of them whacks it into the water to find out. It floats. Now, it seems, each of the girls wonders if ALL golf balls float, or, more specifically, if their golf ball floats. Soon the little creek is full of brightly colored golf balls and a pack a wild girls, carrying clubs is running alongside the water, cheering their balls on.
The little river dumps into several collection areas and there are nets nearby. Sharon and I collect up all of the balls and try to get this thing back on track.
At first each girls had completed their turn on each hole, hitting it as many times as it took to get it in the hole before the next girl took her turn. I, very unwisely, tell them that they should each take their first shot and then the furthest from the hole should shoot. This leads to the game turning into some odd version of pool or maybe marbles or croquet. The girls figure out that it's a lot of fun to whack their ball into another one and send the other one flying. Some of the girls take exception to that and stand guard over their balls, ready to turn away any ball that comes close.
Then someone figures out that, with a little planning, they can hit the other ball and send it flying into (you guessed it) the water! It's two (or is it three?) games in one!!! We're back at the collection area, nets in hand, in no time. After a bit, we learn to station ourselves at the waters edge and kick the balls that appear to be waterbound back on course.
Some of the girls come up with a novel way to play and to protect their balls from being whacked into the water. They place their putter behind the ball and simply glide it along, pushing the ball forward until it comes to rest in the hole. "HOLE IN ONE!!", they shout. "Five!", Sharon and I write down.
It's a warm and sunny day out, so we've given each of the girls a water bottle, so they can stay hydrated. After four holes there are huge battles going on about which water bottle belongs to whom. After six holes there is a trail of half-empty water bottle littering the course. Only one girl has her water bottle left. It is unopened. Everyone eyes her water bottle jealously, just waiting for her to put it down. She senses that and plays the rest of the way with the water bottle tucked under her chin.
There is a group ahead of us, at the beginning of the day. It appears to be a grandpa and his grandson. The grandpa looks determined to ingore all of the commotion behind him. There are several groups in front of them, so they have nowhere to go. We catch up to them over the first couple of holes. The girls surround them as they are on the tee. It reminds me of vultures waiting for the beast to die. Or maybe a scene from Hitchcock's The Birds. How they put up with us, I'll never know. I guess grandpas just have that kind of patience built in.
Some of the girls get so frustrated that they decide that they are going to play for the HIGH SCORE! They are amazingly creative with their bad shots. Most end up taking six or seven shots from the tee. The numbers are astronomical. 20, 30, 40. The place is getting crowded....behind us. The groups ahead of us are fading away into the distance. We institute a five shot limit. The scorecards are littered with fives.
One of the girls discovers that the putter can be used as a ride! You hold the handle, with the club face on the ground. Stand on the club face with one leg and push off with the other. Voila! Instant spinning ride! Soon they're all doing it. Laughing and giggling. We let a group play through our two groups. We warn them to be careful as they weave through our whirling dervishes.
The tenth hole features a cave with a waterfall that flows over the outside of it. The hole is in the middle of the cave and the cave is more than lrage enough to walk around in. Ten of us go in. Eight of us come out.
What the heck?!?!?!?!?
Two of the girls have found a little nook in the cave, just big enough for two. They laugh when we find them.
Then everybody wants to hide in the little nook. Then they want to hide with one of the other girls. Let's see....how many combinations can eight girls, grouping in twos make? We try to herd them forward, but they leak back, two by two, to hide in the little nook. Somewhere along the line the group behind us hits and one of our girls gets in the way and knocks the ball back down to the tee. ACK!!! We're mortified!
The girls simmer down. For about 10 seconds.
One starts using the putter like a pool cue. Soon they all are. It's easier to aim, they find, and knock each others' balls into the water.
After 16 holes, it becomes apparent that they've run out of ideas and aren't really interested in playing any more. We are secrectly delighted.
Off we go to turn in our balls and putters and have an ice cream. "Are you done already?", the kid in the little building asks. We tilt our heads and look at him as if he were mad. We walk over to the other little building, the ice cream stand. We let the girls know that they can have a small cone or a small slushie. That, of course, leads to a chorus of "But we want milk shakes!!" So, we add milk shakes to the allowed list. All of the girls beging pushing to the little window,yelling out their orders. The girl inside the little building steps back a bit. Her eyes are wide. I think she may sense that there is a real possibility of a juvenile riot. We get the girls to organize themselves into a line and take turns. Many of the girls get a shake. Then one orders a pumpkin flavored cone. That stops everyone in their tracks. "Pumpkin?!?!? Nobody said they had pumpkin!!!" Now everyone holding a shake suddenly wants a pumpkin cone. They approach the poor girl at the window looking to trade their shakes back in again. The girl at the window looks like she wants to just slide her little window closed and go home. The girl with the pumpkin cone is like a goddess, striding forth amonth the masses, holding her cone aloft like the flaming torch of liberty, water bottle tucked neatly under her chin. The other girls, miserarble now with their shakes, slink around, eyes darting, envious and slightly angry. I order a large dish of pumpkin. And several spoons. Order is retored and revolution averted.
We sit in the shade and watch the unwanted milk shakes turn back to milk as the girls gather around that dish of pumpkin ice cream, devouring it in swift spoonfuls. They are delighted.
Somewhere along the way, one of the girls asks who won.
Sharon and I check the score cards and announce a tie. Over sixteen holes, each of the girls has a score of 80. They high five each other, congratulating themselves and each other on their remarkable skills.
Not their golfing skills, but their friendship skills.
All in all, they've beaten par.
