There really was no hope.

Yesterday, CC tried out for his junior high school golf team. I went to the golf course early to watch him come in. As he came off the 9th tee and walked down the fairway I watched him for signs of dejection, sadness, maybe some hostility (emotions I saw prevalent in most of the other groups before him) but all I saw was a happy kid sauntering down towards the green.

As he walked off the 9th hole, he was counting up his strokes on his scorecard and he had this huge grin on his face. He said 'Mom, I shot a 60, so I won't make the team, but that was so much fun!'

Dang it. He was hit hard by the golf gene. I was really hoping it might skip a generation, but it didn't happen. There really was no hope to begin with. Between his Dad who plays, his aunt who is a 1st assistant in Florida and his Grandpa who is a swing coach at the Y, the kid was bound to get some type of golf gene. I tried to prevent it, but it just wasn't possible. His aunt, Grandpa and Dad are thrilled. He is such a cute kid, who is just happy to be able to play. I'm so lucky.

Okay. Last golf story. While I was watching the groups come in, a Dad of another player came up on the balcony where I was waiting. He was quite the friendly guy (and --my students will love this--kind of handsome). We chatted for a while while we were waiting. He seemed quite nice. When his son walked off the green, he called out to him and asked him how he did. His son did this thumbs down thing and yelled back a high score at his Dad. This Dad then yells out a string of profanity at his son. I think I just stood there with my mouth open staring at him with evil mother eyes. Uh. Yuck. I should have pushed him off the balcony.