This March Break had a lot to do with golf balls and nothing to do with golf.
Greg and the girls decided to walk around the same golf course nightly and look for rogue balls that had been abandoned, at least this is the story they told the golfers they were secretly watching before discreetly jumping out of the bushes and collecting their balls before they could hit them a second time.
I won’t bore you with the mind-numbing details of each find (that I have had to sit through) but at the end of the week, they are up 133 balls and the golfers in the area are scratching their heads wondering if they have suffered a stroke.
Our kids (and my husband) are collectors. At first I thought this type of collection was somewhat unique but it turns out there are other ball hounds running a similar scam in the area. They wear street clothes like the rest of us and eat dinner early to get a jump-start on the evening action. Some of them even wear visors so they blend. The only difference is they carry plastic, beach toy buckets with handles because they think it makes them unassuming but when you think about it, how many times have you seen a family build a sand castle on a golf course?
While we have no idea what we might do with the balls other than the obvious, we should send ransom notes to those individuals who took the time and spent the money to have their balls monogrammed and say something like, “Hello Tom Raveskin, we have your balls.” We would probably just hang up after that because where does one go from there?
At some point, we’re hoping the kids will shift their passion for collecting to gold bouillon or straight up paper money but for now we’re stuck on golf balls and beach glass with almost zero street value and a high risk of a trespassing charge.
The second day out, Greg bought a ball retriever from Walmart, the store my kids refer to as, “Hey Mom, there’s that store that makes you so mad.”
Every stick he poked with the ball retriever he would say, “Hey look girls, a snake!” until he poked an actual snake and broke the ball retriever while slamming it into the ground and running for his life.
Maybe they could sell the balls and buy a new retriever.
Or some golf lessons.
