It’s no secret that my husband is a huge golfer. He spent the majority of his childhood on the fairway with his father and then managed a golf course right out of college. Truthfully, he’d still be at the course working 70-hour weeks if it weren’t for falling in love with yours truly. He still gets to play pretty regularly (although is there ever enough golf to a player?) and commits to a few tournaments per year (he won his first tournament this year!). Our garage is outfitted for a large work bench where he tweaks and alters clubs for himself and friends. I lost track of how many clubs he actually owns, but he has a knack for finding hidden treasures, refitting them and then selling them for profit.
I’m a proud golfing widow.
So it’s no surprise that he is eager, really eager, for Harrison to pick up a golf club. It’s not that he wants to turn him into the next Tiger, but rather that it’s the father-son activity he’s dreamed about since the ultrasound tech said “boy!” in May 2009.
He had checked out a few child-sized clubs and decided it was time to graduate Harrison from plastic clubs to the real thing. So on Sunday, we headed to the golf store where Harrison played on the mini putting green and got to choose between a pink putter and a yellow/black putter. He chose the yellow one because it looked like a “bee,” which was very darling.
We decided to just get him a solo putter rather than a driver, wedge, and bag – he needs to just get comfy with the grip and the activity and a putter is the best way to do that. Especially when putt-putt golf is involved!
We’ll see if he becomes the next great pro!