basolf

It was on another day and during another season from the not too distant past, and it was a day like many other days in that it was mostly light – this as opposed to nights, which are predominately dark. My occupation – it could have been a preoccupation but that would have made it happen before it did - was in the area of child care (of two grandsons), making sure that the little one either didn’t get stepped on or whacked with a toy, and making sure that the older one didn’t do either of these two painful things to him.

The room of my only slightly restful activity was the den and my position was prone – beside the baby - on a quilt placed on the floor mostly for this young one. The reason this endeavor was semi-active was that the young one and I were being used as target practice by the older one – two years old. His projectile of choice was a plastic golf ball of the hollow, practice type. This was being propelled by a plastic covered foam baseball bat, and his aim was better than average.

At my suggestion he tried the plastic golf club, but it was not to his liking and he tossed it aside and went back to the deadly bat. He was calling the game baseball but due to the unusual combination of striking instrument and game ball another name was made necessary. I guess it could be called “basolf”, and probably should have a few rules of play – this so one would know if the game was being played properly.

The main goal of the game seemed to be making the plastic ball come in contact with the epidermis of the closest living person. That would have made me - or the small one - the goal and the number of hits on the goal in the shortest amount of time was the object. Now since I was preventing the ball from striking the younger “grunt”, that made me a goalie as well as the goal. Whether the game made sense or not was not important since it was enjoyed by all involved.

The older grunt came out a winner of the “basolf” game for two reasons. One was that he made several hits on the person of his elder, and the other reason was that he was the only player. The goal/goalie was also a winner in as much as he prevented the game missile from impacting on the smallest of the small persons with which he was entrusted.

All this while the little one was grabbing for face and shirt, and was making many language beginning noises accompanied by droplets of drool propelled my way by small lips making motorboat sounds. This made the grandpa the overall winner since the goal of his game was to be the object of attention for his two young grandsons and he departed the activity with a much warmer heart. ec