There’s an old-fashioned putt-putt golf course down by the marina in the old city of St. Augustine. It doesn’t have any large structures, windmills, or anything like that, but it’s a nice little relaxed course with a great view of the St. Johns. Last time we visited St. Augustine, we asked the kids if they wanted to give it a try.

The response was resoundingly positive.

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“Okay,” I said. “But let’s do teams.”

I suggested teams for two reasons. The first was so that each of the kids would have someone to teach them. When they’re playing against you, they don’t like you to show them how to play. The other reason is because I didn’t want to spend all day at the putt-putt golf course. By playing teams (alternating hits on each hole), we can be assured of finishing the course in a reasonable amount of time.

I had barely finished my suggestion when my youngest shouted, “I’m on Daddy’s team!”

“Hey great idea,” I said. “Let’s do the youngest against the oldest!”

“What?”

“You’re younger than your brother, and I’m younger than Momma. It’s the youngest against the oldest!”

That got me two shouted “yeahs!”

“We can be the rhinos,” my youngest said. “That’s our team. We’re the rhinos!”

“The young rhinos?” I asked.

“Yeah – the Young Rhinos!” He pumped his fist in the air. “We’re the Young Rhinos!”

My oldest couldn’t let that pass. “Okay! Then we’re the elephants! They’re bigger than Rhinos. We’re the elephants!”

“So it’s the Young Rhinos against the…” I hesitated.

“Old Elephants,” he shouted. “We’re the Old Elephants.” He turned to his brother. “We’re gonna beat you cause we’re bigger.” He puffed his chest out. “We’re the Old Elephants!”

My wife sighed. Her shoulders drooped. I put an arm around her. “Cheer up, old elephant,” I said, smiling.

She shrugged me away and pointed her finger at me. “We’re gonna crush you.”

“Yeah!” my oldest shouted, pumping his fist in the air.