Visual Hijinks

This past Friday, we picked up TheChild and spent a little quality time with her.

TheMister had spoken to my mother-in-law earlier in the week and was under the assumption that she was going to tell TheChild's mother that we were planning to pick her up for a day or two this weekend, to make up for not having her on our scheduled weekend, which was last weekend. As it turned out, my mother-in-law was under the impression that TheMister was going to call TheChild's mother, so she hadn't said anything to her. This led to TheChild being quite surprised to see us at her house when we pulled into the driveway.

Hooray, communication!

Anyway, we took TheChild to play miniature golf after going to dinner, despite her assertions that she hadn't ever played mini golf before...er, oh wait...she had played it once before and hated it. (HATED!) We walked into the mini golf place, told the girl behind the counter that three people were playing and my husband paid.

TheChild said, "But I don't want to play. I hate it."

I said, "Too bad. We already paid and Daddy and I want to play, so you're going to play, too! Now, choose your putter."

Muah ha ha! Aren't we so mean and cruel!?!? Call Family & Children's Services on us, if you must.

We ended up playing 17 of the 18 holes, because there was a party of like 10 people in front of us who were taking 1,000 years to finish each hole. We played ahead for a hole or two, and then just decided to totally skip hole 3 so we wouldn't have to keep jumping ahead of the big group and then back again.

At one point I was getting frustrated with a particular hole, and I was trying to tell my husband that it wouldn't be so frustrating if so many of the holes didn't have optical illusions as obstacles (like the hole being up on an area that was raised a tiny, tiny bit that you couldn't really see, but that the ball would respond to). However, I couldn't remember the words "optical illusion", so in an effort to get my message across to TheMister, I called them "visual hijinks." I have since decided I rather like that term. It amuses me.

Another thing I found amusing was how TheChild wanted to keep score. On a few holes, she actually shot a legitimate 2 or 3, which I think was impressive for a 7-year-old. Then there were the holes where she actually had an 11 or a 16 or so (I would stop counting after a while), but when we asked her what her score on that hole was, she would say, "6. Er, um...5. No, 4. Yeah, 4." So I'd write "4" on the score card, with a tiny 11 or 7 or whatever the actual number was next to it.

I was amazed that I was better at putting that night than I thought I would be, having not played mini golf in about 10 years or more. I was actually kind of proud of myself. And for some reason I was able to not carry the frustration of one hole to the next, which made things a lot easier and really, more fun. (I tend to get all bent out of shape at the driving range, and can't seem to let it go from ball to ball.)

The best part was when we were leaving the mini golf place on the way to meet TheChild's mother at Mal-Wart, TheChild actually asked, "Can we do this again the next time you have me?"