There's a 10-second rule we follow when we golf. If someone makes a bad shot or misses a putt, we withhold comment for a count to 10 until they perhaps calm down and reduce the risk of getting a club thrown at you.
This can be applied to any situation in life really. Give people time to realize their mistakes and move on. Then, when it's appropriate, gloat!
So after two days of silence, I am going to gloat. Hey, a girl's gotta gloat when she can!
On Father's Day, Jim and Carter were set to go to the batting cage for some practice. They invited Mom with so they could show me how good they are. Carter had done exceptionally well their last time there so Dad encouraged him to challenge Momma to see who would hit more. The only stipulation was that I use the same baseball machine as Carter -- no softball pitching for me just because I'm a girl.
In the end, that didn't matter. I stepped up to the plate and swung at the first pitch. Ping! I hit it. Here comes the second pitch. Ping! And the third. Ping! Ping! Ping!
I think I missed two, according to Carter's count. He didn't have such a remarkable performance but he wasn't mad about it. I think he and Daddy were just speechless I could hit after not swinging a bat in like 10 years. I was speechless, too!
Of course, how long can a girl go, really, before she just HAS to talk?
Now I know what they mean when someone rises to a challenge and they say they "really stepped up to the plate." I did that ... and I swung! Of course, my back was aching a bit Monday but shhhhh ... don't tell them that. I want them to be impressed with the Ol' Lady just a little bit longer!
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Hey, Robyn with a y! My son is in little league (just the start of his second year so he's still "in training") and last night he had the most beauuutiful hit, right over second base! Man, I was on my feet cheering like a maniac momma! :) Anyway, it's been ages since I played a real game of baseball (er... softball), so it sure is fun to live vicariously through my kid! :) (p.s. -- hey, wish me a happy birthday!) (p.s.s. was Marilyn working at LP when you were there?)
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