Chloe earned herself a ticket to one round of mini-golf yesterday.

 
She has been begging all summer to go and I allowed the build up to be bigger than the actual round of 18 glorious holes.

The longer we held off, the more I could hold mini-putting to the same standard as say, Disney or at the very least, Disney On Ice.

 
The course is sort of overgrown with weeds and the blue “Grover” fur looked angrier and more horror movie-esque than the lovable Sesame Street character it resembled a year ago when we played last.

 
Chloe “won” the trip to the mini-golf course after hosting a successful play date and never saying (at least that I could hear or lip read) the phrases, “You can’t go in my room,” “You can’t play with my toys,” “Don’t ask what my room looks like,” “Don’t ask what toys I have,” “You break it, you buy it” or the more popular, “I wish my cousins were here instead.”

 
I took all three girls to the course as surprisingly, both Hanna and Ellie were game to play a round and reminisced about the fun they had the last time they played.

 
I quickly remembered that their memories were skewed as yesterday’s round went a little like the last time.

 
The drive to the course was fun. Everyone was excited to see how big the weeds had grown and if the turf had been completely peeled off of that one hole that had no business going up as high as it did. I wondered if the holes still had leaves and animal parts and leftover pencils from previous games. We all smiled.

 
Hole number one: Ellie shot a two, Hanna shot a two, Chloe shot a three. A nice start.

 
Hole number two: Hanna shot a four. Ellie shot a three. Hanna quit golf.

 
Hole number six: Ellie shot a ten. Ellie cried.

 
Hole number eight: Chloe used only her foot to golf and swung the club at the grasses attacking her, narrowly missing her mother’s temple.

 
Hole number eleven: Everyone missed, complained about the heat and begged not to die from dehydration.

 
Hole number twelve: HOLE NUMBER TWELVE! Jesus Christ, we’re only on hole number twelve and you quitters and complainers have ruined this game! THAT I PAID FOR! Hole number twelve is where Mom loses her marbles.

 
Hole number thirteen: Silence.

 
Hole number fourteen: Where are the kids?

 
Hole number eighteen: Kids place their balls in the slot that chews them up forever with their hands.

 
The family walks to the van in silence.

 
Chloe calls, “Can we stop for lemonade on the way home?”