Living in South Carolina means that one Wednesday we can be out sledding in the afternoon and the next Wednesday, playing soccer and trying out a new sport.

Stopping by the thrift store today for some thing or another, K let the Boy make some purchases of his own: a golf club. Why a golf club? I don’t play golf; I don’t watch golf; I don’t talk or even think about golf. But there it is — the Boy has a golf club and some balls now.

We headed out to the front yard for some initial swings.

“Let’s get you going this direction,” I said when I saw the neighbors’ cars in their driveway just beside our lawn. The other neighbors’ car was out, too, but the chances of him hitting that car, with the ground sloping upward and the additional barrier of our own driveway and second patch of ground, seemed significantly lower.

After dinner, soccer. He’s going to be playing again this spring, and he’s eager to get some practice — so eager that we have to go through the whole routine he and his team went through, with warm-ups, some passing practice, and finally a game. We don’t have a goal anymore, so it amounted to a game of keep-away — good practice in and of itself.

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