The Golf Outfit

Tommy asked, “Can I try on my new outfit?”

I went, “Of course!” I had been wanting to try it on him to make sure it fit. I bought it at, where else, Gymboree.





Tommy asked, “Is this like a golf outfit?”

I went, “Yes, it is.”





Tommy asked, “Can I golf someday?”

I went, “Sure. You’ll have to go with your Dad though because I have no idea how to golf. I don’t know a golf club from another. Maybe I need to re-watch Happy Gilmore to remind myself.” (The price is WRONG, bitch.)





Tommy asked, “Can I be a golfer and a swimmer?”

I went, “You can be whatever you want to be.”





Tommy asked, “Can I be a golfer like that Lion Woods guy?”

I went, “It’s Tiger Woods and maybe one day you’ll be as good as him. But I’d rather you not act like him.”





Tommy asked, “What does that mean?”

I hesitated. I didn’t think using the term “man whore” was appropriate for a seven year old.

So I went, “He just made some poor choices.”






Tommy asked, “Like when I asked what French kissing was at Target?”

I went, “That was a poor choice, yes. Let’s not ever do that again, okay?”





Tommy asked, “My friend got French kissed, you know.”

I went, “You’re seven! You’re not to French kiss for many, many years.”

Tommy asked, “Like when I’m twenty five?”

I went, “Yes. Perfect.”