play mini-golf at Pirate’s Cove, a miniature golf treasure that offered two eighteen hole challenges. Parker chose the Blackbeard course, because it went through a cave. Fortunately, majestic oaks and mist machines made the outdoor activity tolerable on a hot day. Stepping foot on the grounds, hokey pirate themes abounded. Parker mimicked his dad’s putting touch and actually did well for a three-year-old. He made a hole-in-one and his joyful squeal stopped time. Chase marveled at Parker’s hand eye coordination, wondering if he might be golf’s next child prodigy. Though Chase had an opportunity to earn a living teaching golf, he chose a different path. The corporate world paid off well, but it had its own hazards.
After their golf balls were swallowed by the last hole in the course, they relaxed together sipping root beer next to the big pirate ship.
The root beer hit the spot, but spoiled Parker’s appetite. Chase needed another activity to entertain his son before dinner. Too blistering hot to play catch, especially in wool dress slacks, he remembered the two bags of stale bread in the trunk. Perfect.
“What are we going to do now? Can we go shark fishing?”
“I told you we need a full day to go fishing, but I’ve got something I know you’ll love.”
“What is it? What is it?”
Chase realized he made a serious parental faux pas, opening the can of worms too early. Parker played the guessing game for the duration of the drive. Even flipping on the next Raffi song didn’t help. Chase finally pulled off to a gravel parking spot next to the pond. Parker said, “Can we feed the turtles?”
“Yep. I’ve got some turtle food in my trunk.”
“Can I feed ‘em?”
“Absolutely.” Chase popped the trunk and handed Parker the bag of bread; they headed to a big rock on the water’s edge. Parker wound up and threw the first bread piece as far as he could. Seconds later, a couple of turtles surrounded the floating bread like sharks on a wounded seal. Several turtles floated toward the ripple like magnetized toy boats. Parker enthusiastically pointed out the biggest turtle. Chase grinned.
The turtle feed lasted for close to thirty minutes. An alligator that had been sunning itself on the far banks splashed into the water and, in a slow but deliberate motion, headed toward their feeding area. Game over. Parker protested, but “Don’t Feed the Alligators” was one rule Chase would never bend.
Hand in hand, they bee-lined back to the car and jumped in. “Can we watch him from the car, daddy?”
“I guess so, but if he gets too close, we’re outta here.”
“Yippee.” Ah, the simple things, Chase thought. Who needs to take their kid to Disney World for a good time?
After a few minutes of slowly floating in the middle of the pond, the alligator’s curiosity waned and it retreated to the other side, out of view. “You hungry for some dinner, buddy?”
“Can we still go to Chuck E. Cheese?”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
“I like this. Can we do it tomorrow?”
“No, this is a special treat, son. I have to work. That’s why Oksana usually picks you up from Angel Academy. I’m glad I could surprise you today, though.”
“Me too.”
The Chuck E. Cheese was located on Mayfair Street, about twenty minutes away. Chase flipped on “Parker Tunes” again and father – son sang, “More We Get Together,” “Down By The Bay,” and “I Wonder If I’m Growing.” Pulling into the parking lot of minivans and SUVs, the sleek BMW turned a few soccer moms’ heads. Parker wanted pizza but Chase couldn’t stomach it. He opted for the healthiest thing on the menu: the salad bar. He ordered Parker a six inch cheese pizza and a soda. Surrounded by moms and dads seated with their children, Chase and Parker ate in silence. After finishing half a slice and two sips of soda, Parker said, “I’m full.” Typical .
Chase had only finished half of his salad, but could part ways without remorse.
After their golf balls were swallowed by the last hole in the course, they relaxed together sipping root beer next to the big pirate ship.
The root beer hit the spot, but spoiled Parker’s appetite. Chase needed another activity to entertain his son before dinner. Too blistering hot to play catch, especially in wool dress slacks, he remembered the two bags of stale bread in the trunk. Perfect.
“What are we going to do now? Can we go shark fishing?”
“I told you we need a full day to go fishing, but I’ve got something I know you’ll love.”
“What is it? What is it?”
Chase realized he made a serious parental faux pas, opening the can of worms too early. Parker played the guessing game for the duration of the drive. Even flipping on the next Raffi song didn’t help. Chase finally pulled off to a gravel parking spot next to the pond. Parker said, “Can we feed the turtles?”
“Yep. I’ve got some turtle food in my trunk.”
“Can I feed ‘em?”
“Absolutely.” Chase popped the trunk and handed Parker the bag of bread; they headed to a big rock on the water’s edge. Parker wound up and threw the first bread piece as far as he could. Seconds later, a couple of turtles surrounded the floating bread like sharks on a wounded seal. Several turtles floated toward the ripple like magnetized toy boats. Parker enthusiastically pointed out the biggest turtle. Chase grinned.
The turtle feed lasted for close to thirty minutes. An alligator that had been sunning itself on the far banks splashed into the water and, in a slow but deliberate motion, headed toward their feeding area. Game over. Parker protested, but “Don’t Feed the Alligators” was one rule Chase would never bend.
Hand in hand, they bee-lined back to the car and jumped in. “Can we watch him from the car, daddy?”
“I guess so, but if he gets too close, we’re outta here.”
“Yippee.” Ah, the simple things, Chase thought. Who needs to take their kid to Disney World for a good time?
After a few minutes of slowly floating in the middle of the pond, the alligator’s curiosity waned and it retreated to the other side, out of view. “You hungry for some dinner, buddy?”
“Can we still go to Chuck E. Cheese?”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
“I like this. Can we do it tomorrow?”
“No, this is a special treat, son. I have to work. That’s why Oksana usually picks you up from Angel Academy. I’m glad I could surprise you today, though.”
“Me too.”
The Chuck E. Cheese was located on Mayfair Street, about twenty minutes away. Chase flipped on “Parker Tunes” again and father – son sang, “More We Get Together,” “Down By The Bay,” and “I Wonder If I’m Growing.” Pulling into the parking lot of minivans and SUVs, the sleek BMW turned a few soccer moms’ heads. Parker wanted pizza but Chase couldn’t stomach it. He opted for the healthiest thing on the menu: the salad bar. He ordered Parker a six inch cheese pizza and a soda. Surrounded by moms and dads seated with their children, Chase and Parker ate in silence. After finishing half a slice and two sips of soda, Parker said, “I’m full.” Typical .
Chase had only finished half of his salad, but could part ways without remorse.
Similar Books
