is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
What Mama Woods and I might just have in common
Thursday, March 8, 2007 
Lil E loves golf.
I've written about before, talked about it often and it is as close to my mind as the whiffle, foam and real golf balls scattered from corner to corner of our tiny apartment.
He's nearly 2-1/2, so this obsession with putters, fairways and lining up the right shot is either adorable or creepy. We think it's adorable. The old men staring at Bruce when he took him to the Golf Dome to hit some balls? They thought it was creepy. At least until Bruce explained that going to the Golf Dome was all the shorty's idea. And trust me, it is.
People assume we push it on him or turned him on to his passion for greens and irons with our own interest in golfing. Not so. I don't remember how it began, but it was early, and it involved rapt attention while watching (yes, actual watching) golf tourneys on TV. The boy has three sets of well-used clubs -- one plastic, one real junior set and one foamy variation for rounds of (just as good) miniature furniture golf.
Many conversations in our home begin like this:
Mommy, the Golf Dome is very important because...
Earlier this week, we were camped out on the couch after a long day (and me needing another giant dose of ibuprofen) when Lil E popped up, scurried over to his bag of clubs and said:
Daddy, shall we get some golf action going?
And just this morning as we rushed to get Lil E all ready for another day at mommy cult co-op, to get Bruce geared up for Mommy Parent of the Day duties and to get me feeling awake and snazzy enough to go to a downtown doctor appointment, we were also being directed by the Benevolent Dictator himself in a golf-centered scenario:
Daddy, I will be Tiger Woods and you will be the o'er golfer guy. Daddy, you will be Vijay Singh. Mommy, you be ano'er golfer guy too!
Two years ago, I would have been astonished to hear the words that follow coming from my lips:
I could be Ernie Els.
Especially to my toddler's response:
Ooooh! Wha' you doiiiiiing, Ernie Els? Where's your driver and your iron and your putter, Ernie Els?
And most definitely not leading myself further into the imaginary conversation with:
Have you ever been to the Golf Dome, Tiger Woods and Vijay Singh?
And so it is in our little pocket of the world. Snowy, 27 degrees, behind schedule, half-dressed, out of milk and all about golf.
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