Projectiles, Fists of Fury, Flintstones, and Google, OH MY!
I do not play Golf. Mainly, because I can not play worth a crap. Would I like to learn, sure, but that involves money, patience, and the ability to hit a ball more than 100 yards. I have none of those qualities.
The Mother-In-Law (for sake of this post and anytime I refer to her in this blog let us call her the MIL) one day when she decided to invade our house and gave the Kid a plastic golf set. The set has 3 plastic weapons and 3 plastic projectiles along with a plastic rolling case, needed for any weapon set right? The Kid loves this toy and it has probably become one of his more favorite toys that the MIL has given him.
The Kid will take one of the projectiles carefully place it on the floor, pick up the weapon, and line up his shot as if he will hit the ball 300 yards and become the next Tom Watson. What he does next though, is like a scene out of “Fists of Fury.”
The Kid starts smacking the floor around the projectile with his weapon like Bam Bam from the Flintstones. He will then continue to hit everything around him except the projectile. It makes for a fun Monday night when we know that he is trying to hit the projectile but instead hits dad in the balls, hence why I call the club a weapon. As I am hitting a note higher than I thought I ever should hit, I tell the Kid…
Wrong set of balls!!!!!!!!!!
Why are there no pictures of this? Well probably because the family photographer is rolling around on the floor screaming in agony while Hot Mama is laughing.
Being the intellectual that I am, I have come up with a way to get back at the Kid.
Hit him in the head with the projectiles!
I thought that I would be a good idea to not throw the hard plastic projectiles at him but instead, put them one in my mouth and shoot it off at him. This backfired. The Kid loves it when I do this and wants me to continue doing this, he will go pick up the projectile that I shot out of my mouth (insert a “That’s What She said”) and want me to do it all over again.
When I started doing this, Hot Mama had no idea what was going on. She was in the office working on something else, probably Googling, “How to get dad to act like a grown-up when playing with his kid?” She had no idea that I would put the projectiles in my mouth and spit them at the Kid.
She came walking out of the office to see what all the ruckus was about and said,
Quit teaching our child how to put entire golf balls in his mouth!
I immediately pointed at the Kid and said, “He started it!” and then got hit in the balls with a weapon again.
Posted on April 3, 2012, in Fatherhood and tagged Baby, Balls, Child, Children, Dad, Daddy, Family, father, Fatherhood, Fathers, Golf, home, Kids, Life, mom, mommy, Mother, motherhood, Parent, parenthood, parenting, sport, Toddler, Tom Watson. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.