Oh friend, didn't you read the warning sign at the gate to the put-put golf-o-dome arena of core childhood memories and poor attempts at miniature windmills? "Should you choose to enter this grand landscape with children under the age of eleventeen we advise you bring your own elephant sedatives, hockey goalie gear, and personal ball tracking devices. Enter without the proper safety precautions at your own peril - and by peril we mean bruised shins, lost children and/or memories worthy of taunting, torture or graduation / wedding / anniversary toasts."
"Putt-putt" may be what the owners WISHED people did on their absurdly imagined obstacles, but I fear "SLAM-BAM, THANK-YOU MA'AM!" is far more often what actually transpires...as you have obviously found out.
The final picture calls to mind the phrase "...and you'll have to pry my weapon out of my cold dead hands!" 😳 🫤
FWIW, I've always been a teensy bit skeptical of people (children especially) who are actually into doing putt putt correctly. Child A and Child B may be on their own tracks, but they are promising ones. Oh, and this story revives a memory of one of my worst childhood injuries, when my brother hit me in the ankle with a golf club because we were playing -- and this was my idea -- hockey in the basement with our father's nine and the seven irons. I think I'd been on roller skates.
Oh friend, didn't you read the warning sign at the gate to the put-put golf-o-dome arena of core childhood memories and poor attempts at miniature windmills? "Should you choose to enter this grand landscape with children under the age of eleventeen we advise you bring your own elephant sedatives, hockey goalie gear, and personal ball tracking devices. Enter without the proper safety precautions at your own peril - and by peril we mean bruised shins, lost children and/or memories worthy of taunting, torture or graduation / wedding / anniversary toasts."
as usual, I love these stories.
Hilarious horrors! My fav: “...Child B has been licking norovirus off of while it...”
Thx for the cackles. 🤣
So many cackles- errupting with “Agony Rewritten By Snack Dopamine.”
"Putt-putt" may be what the owners WISHED people did on their absurdly imagined obstacles, but I fear "SLAM-BAM, THANK-YOU MA'AM!" is far more often what actually transpires...as you have obviously found out.
The final picture calls to mind the phrase "...and you'll have to pry my weapon out of my cold dead hands!" 😳 🫤
FWIW, I've always been a teensy bit skeptical of people (children especially) who are actually into doing putt putt correctly. Child A and Child B may be on their own tracks, but they are promising ones. Oh, and this story revives a memory of one of my worst childhood injuries, when my brother hit me in the ankle with a golf club because we were playing -- and this was my idea -- hockey in the basement with our father's nine and the seven irons. I think I'd been on roller skates.