Thing One apparently had a tough day at golf camp today: couldn't hit a bull in the hind end with a golf ball. He came home frustrated and embarrassed. I think every golfer ever born has days like that. I know I have.
Because of potential rain, the soccer conditioning practice he was supposed to have tonight was cancelled. Himself took him out in the front yard for some ball-handling drills instead (completely voluntary on both sides, I should add.) While they played, I cleaned up the kitchen from dinner.
A bit later, I looked out the window, and saw that Thing One had a golf club in his hands. Himself was standing over him, patiently putting his hands in the correct places on the club and modeling a correct swing. The kid hit a beautiful shot, and I caught the smiles and high five they exchanged before I turned away. Building a little man in the model of his father (a good thing), one step at a time.