Family Story

"Listening to parents' advice is sort of like watching commercials. You know what's coming, you've heard it all before, it's a big bore, but you listen anyways. (Or should...) "-Unknown

One of my hobbies is golfing. My dad's side of the family has always enjoyed the game, and that is how I was introduced to it. One boring afternoon, I decided to practice my chipping in the backyard. In the game of golf, a chip is normally for short distances onto the green, and so I assumed that I had plenty of space to practice outside in the yard. As usual, when I went outside, my mom told me to use the plastic golf balls instead of the real ones, because they were lighter and less prone to any sort of "accidents." I acknowledged her advice with a quick mumble.

Outside, I searched through our blue bucket of balls, but only found three plastic, aka woofle balls. I knew I would need more, and therefore grabbed a couple real golf balls also.

I warmed up, positioned near one end of the yard, facing our red, and peeling wooden play structure, and what we call "the clubhouse," built by my dad. More accurately though, it is my sisters playroom, full of all her toys. It is complete with sliding glass doors, laminate flooring, and a cute little porch. I think he did a pretty good job, for having no previous building experience.

After hitting my first few balls, I went to collect them, but only found three, and none of them were the plastic kind, which must have disappeared into the bushes. Despite that, I set up my stance, and swung at the next ball, a little harder than I had intended to. *CRASH* Millions of tiny shards of glass fell from the clubhouse window. 'Oh boy,' I thought. I went to inspect the damage, and found a nice sized hole in the window. The worst part though, happened inside the house: all of my sister's toys were littered with glass. (I must say though, it was a pretty nice shot, it went straight and everything.)

I had to tell my parents, of course, because a mess that big could not be hidden. My mom and dad were very angry, and I spent the rest of the day cleaning off every individual barbie doll and tea cup. Lucky for me, that was as far as the punishment went.

That day, I suppose I learned that I should pay more attention to my parents' advice. And I guess I can say that I do, kind of. Now whenever I practice outside, I face the other direction: towards the stone wall, only 1 1/2 yds tall, that separates the beautifully windowed house of my neighbors, and my golf balls.

...On the other hand, maybe my mom's advice still hasn't hit home.

A Quote:

"Stupid people always think they are right. Wise people listen to advice.” -Unknown

I guess that makes me 50% wise, 50% stupid. :)