One day, the best you’re hoping and praying for is that your son will be able to live independently.
Then, in the blink of an eye, he’s grown up, he’s awesome, and he loves golf.
Last night, while we were visiting at Grandma and Grandpa’s house for a week, Will got his first par on my first course. And I got it on videotape along with a post-par interview.
He tees off from 100 yards. He plays the ball down (“real golf, right Daddy?”). And he focuses on having fun, playing quickly, and being respectful of the course and others.
And he has a ball. And he’s my son.
Yes, my son is different. He didn’t speak until he was almost four, but he hasn’t stopped since. On the way home, we talked about golf, lightning bugs, forms of government and Richard Nixon.
Yes, our son is different. Yes, our son is miracle.
So are you, you know. It’s all in how you look at it.
You get to choose how things affect you.
Now, let’s go to Verne at 6.
Somewhere, Ernie Els is smiling.
(What does this have to do with small business? Everything. If you disagree, get your own blog.)