Today was spent celebrating the life of my wife’s grandmother. She passed early last month, but for those in Colorado that knew her today was the day to gather and chat about a very nice lady. I will always remember her kindness in talking with me at family functions where I would have otherwise just sat back and eaten chips and salsa the whole evening.
But let’s talk small children at golf courses for a moment.
The wake was held at a Colorado Springs municipal golf course. I think I have referred to The Springs as Colorado’s Mos Eisley a number of times, but the course was far from wretched. Good weather, plenty of birds chirping, day drinkers galore, and the soft metal clang of club on ball. The toddler wanted to see all of it. All of it.
When my wife’s side of the family gathers, the four year old runs off with his older cousins and we don’t see any of them the rest of the day. The toddler does not yet care for such things and ventures off on his own, whether he is allowed to or not. Today I chased a toddler.
The mountains and trees surrounding him mattered not though. Adventure presented itself in the form of a flock of geese, grazing golf grounds. He screamed at me when he was not allowed to touch the violent birds.
He was a trooper though. It was a long day of travel (five hour car ride) and being hugged by strangers. Not a whimper out of him. When he was tired he opted to just plop down on the ground in the dining room and scoot himself on his back under a table. It was dark there, after all.