by Gary Torres
I have a friend; we’ll just call him Joseph. He isn’t very old; but I am old and don’t act like it, so who’s to judge? Neither of us claim maturity or better than average driving skills.
Joseph has parents like most kids do. His dad isn’t very handy; but is useful at times because he remembers everything; most of it isn’t really helpful unless you are taking a test.
His mom makes cookies; not often enough, but I am patient.
So Joseph, well he is really only five so we can’t hang out lots and he doesn’t text either. I took Joseph and his dad golfing the other day and things were going smoothly until Joseph decided to try and drive the golf cart. Actually, I am not sure if he was trying to drive or if he was doing some landscaping and trying to take out the big cedar tree.
He doesn’t look like he can drive, but neither does my mom. They both have a hard time seeing over the dashboard. The main difference between my mom and Joseph is that my mom looks forward to taking a nap, and Joseph has to be convinced it’s in his best interest.
Fortunately, Joseph is doing fine, the tree looks like it will live, and Joseph’s dad probably won’t be asked to baby sit anymore.
Okay, the golf cart is going to need some major work, but nothing that a good mechanic can’t take care of... with access to an adequate bank account.
Joseph is pretty smart for being only five. So I don’t really get it when my too kind and loving wife tells me to quit acting like a five-year old.
The other day, Joseph wanted what all five-year olds want; his dad to come home from work and jump on the trampoline with him.
After a brutal and exhausting day, his dad came home and sat wedged in the couch recovering and begged-off jumping on the trampoline.
At the end of the day, when they were kneeling down to say prayers and his dad asked him what was the best part of his day, young Joseph said, “The best part of my day was when you almost jumped on the tramp with me.”
OUCH! I bet dad doesn’t do that again.
But back to my story. We were very fortunate, it could have been a real catastrophe. I mean the cart took quite a hit; young Joseph suffered a minor scratch and some bruised pride, a lesser tree would have been uprooted, and my Pepsi could have been spilled.
Whew! You can imagine my relief when I saw that the lid was still snug! I had just filled it up.
After a quick assessment of the scene, I told Joseph that everything was going to be just fine.
I explained that we could get another golf cart, we still had six holes to play, I had just shot a birdie, and most importantly my Pepsi was intact.
He seemed less than convinced as a crowd gathered to witness the ordeal.
But later, when his mother called and poor Joseph had to fess up that his dad was a terrible baby-sitter and that, although he was only five, he already had his first vehicle accident and would probably have to go to traffic school.
Kindergarten and driving school in the same year; wow, this growing up is tough.
But I heard him as he was trying to calm down his over-reactive, over-protective mother, who wisely had called to see how her young impressionable child was being raised by obviously irresponsible rogue golfers!
Joseph calmly reminded his mother, “I think it is going to be okay... we didn’t spill CaveGuy’s Pepsi and besides, I learned a new golf word. But I can’t tell you what it is.”
I know his mother was relieved to think her son was in such capable hands. I can’t imagine why she thinks I am not a good influence on her children. Where else will they learn to handle adversity with such wisdom.
As for Joseph’s father, I cannot vouch for him, after all, he should know better. Joseph and I have never made any claims to maturity or driving skills.