So THIS happened yesterday:
The thing about these two pictures is this: the boy and Kellen decided to hit the golf course together last night, and a conversation at the check-in desk came up about how they’ll be old enough next year to take the carts out alone, without a parent riding shotgun to monitor all driving shenanigans, since they’ll have REAL DRIVER’S LICENSES, and how this was going to be a glorious time in the future of their lives.
And then, because the golf course owner kind of likes the boy and Kellen, and because their manners are kind of stellar at the times when having stellar manners really counts for something, he let them have the cart…
… even though neither of them owns a legitimate driver’s license…
… without a chaperoning parent…
… for nine entire holes.
Their enthusiasm was such, that they acted like seven-year-olds on Christmas morning, when Santa has just come through with the best Lego set of ever. These two young teenagers were nothing short of Thelma and Louise, as they had a set of wheels all to themselves and no one to tell them to slow down.
Which is why, of course, I couldn’t leave until I had lectured both of them severely, as I said, “If you jump this cart off slopes or drive it too fast down hills and roll it, neither one of you will be allowed to celebrate your birthday again until you turn fifty. Also, any money that you earn in summer jobs will go directly to paying off the damages and making sure that your mothers are comfortable in the asylum. I feel like I might go crazy if I have to worry about broken arms because someone thought it would be a good idea to gather enough speed on the down slope to hop the little creek like Bo Duke might’ve done in the General Lee.”
As it turned out, the boys did their families proud by demonstrating that they could, in fact, achieve nine entire holes of golf in a cart, with only minimal arguing over whose turn it was to actually drive the thing, AND… it stayed upright, on all four wheels, at all times.
Or so they said.
All I know is that the cart was checked in at the clubhouse last night, without anyone filing complaints to our insurance companies.
Clearly, this just goes to show that boys really do mature and grow up and learn to do “big boy stuff,” no matter how much a mother wishes it otherwise.
Which is why I still harbor hope deep inside my heart that THING 2 WILL LEARN TO USE THE TOILET CONSISTENTLY BEFORE HE’S TWELVE YEARS OLD.
Day Four of WE’RE GOING TO CONQUER THIS LIFE MILESTONE, EVEN IF IT KILLS US, has almost killed us.
Y’all have a great weekend.
— reporting from the trenches of Potty Training,