A Chip Off the Old Block

If you read my recent story about my mom, Nina (read: https://midlifebloomer.com/bong-boy/), you’d know that she is living her best life as a one-woman neighborhood watch.

Nina continues to keep tabs on BongBoy as she peers at him through the front shutters. He is usually parked right across the street so they see each other quite a bit.

It’s an unconventional relationship, but it seems to be working.

But enough about Nina and that smoky hooligan. Let’s talk about my dad, Alvin.

Alvin is having a great time inventing front yard games, which I learned about last week. 

Steve and I were hanging out in our backyard with our daughter Quincey and her friend Sarah when out of nowhere, Alvin appeared. 

“Hey, kiddos,” he said. “I just came by to pick something up.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Alvin scratched his head. “Um, it’s round.”

A donut? A tire? My face?

“Can you give us a little more?” I asked.

Alvin swung his hips a little. “It goes in circles,” he said.

“A hula hoop!” Quincey called out.

Ding-ding-ding!

Alvin followed us into the garage, where I immediately spotted the hula hoops.

Unfortunately, the hula hoops were on the top shelf and the only person tall enough to reach them was Sarah, who had just stopped by to pick up some breast milk.

(Yes, you read that right. It’s a party over here. We have hula hoops AND breast milk!)

Sarah retrieved three hula hoops for him, and Alvin headed home to work on his new game.

The next day, I stopped by my parents’ house. Alvin was on the front lawn chipping plastic golf balls over the driveway into the strategically placed hula hoops.

One point for yellow, two for orange, and THREE FOR RED!

People who say skydiving is a rush might want to try this game.

“How are you so good at this?” I asked, after Alvin destroyed me 21-2.

But Alvin wasn’t listening. He was peering across the street, a gleam in his eye.

You know, like in the Grinch movie, when the narrator says, “He got an idea, an awful idea. A wonderful awful idea… ”

“Dad, what are you thinking?” I asked, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

As heart-stopping as this game was, that adrenaline junkie, Alvin, craved something more.

He picked up his pitching wedge and pointed across the street.

“I bet I could hit the lamppost,” he said.

And neighbors’ windows and passing cars and small children.

Someone needed to be the voice of reason.

“How many points if you hit it?” I asked.

“At least 5,” Alvin said.

We headed across the street to scope out our course.

“We just have to be careful not to hit Betty’s garden,” he said.

“Who’s Betty?” I asked.

Alvin pointed to the yard to the right of the pole. “She’s the old lady who lives here.”

(I love when old people call other people “old.”)

Alvin gestured to the house on the left. “And Chuck gets a little persnickety when you walk on his lawn.” 

Got it. Don’t hit Chuck’s lawn.

Why would I want to anyway?

It’s only worth 2 points.

Betty’s lawn is 4 points, so aim right.

The lamppost is 10!

We haven’t hit it yet, but last week, Alvin came within inches!

(We have it on video!)

Seriously, GolfPost might be Alvin’s best invention yet.

Although, we’ve had a few close calls with kids on bikes.

Pedal fast, kids!

(Relax, the kids are fine.)

We’re not crazy.

You know what is crazy?

Yesterday, Alvin bounced a ball off BongBoy’s car and it ALMOST hit the post!

BongBoy wasn’t very happy about this.

Nina said that served him right for parking in the middle of our course.

I tell you, some neighbors…