Last week, I decided to blow off writing for the day and take my son golfing.  We were due for some father-son bonding, so I figured we’d accomplish that over a round of golf.  It had been a while since either of us had broken out the clubs, so I knew we would have plenty of time to hang out together.  This wasn’t going to be a fast round.  There weren’t going to be too many birdies.  As it turned out, we were so rusty that even bogeys eluded us.  In fact, on some holes we simply quit counting shots.  Our egos could only take so much.

Despite our struggles, it was a fantastic day.  The weather was beautiful.  We talked and laughed.  Tyler even got to drive the golf cart when the course rangers weren’t watching.  However, in the midst of all the fun, there were two decisions my son made that struck me as odd at the time.  The first was that he refused to tee off from the ladies’ tees, which are closer to the hole than the men’s tees.  Being 10-years-old, I told him that was well within his rights and that it was acceptable for someone his age to play from there.  He adamantly refused and played every hole from the same place I started.

The other decision that I found not only odd, but frustrating, was that Tyler would never allow me to drop him off to play his ball while I drove the cart over to where my ball was.  This is a time saving measure that all golfers use.  He insisted that we stay together.  So we did.

I didn’t realize why he made these choices until later that evening when he was talking to his sister about our day.  I was waiting to hear him regale Kayla with stories about how well we played (boys like to embellish their athletic abilities).  If not, I fully expected Tyler to tell stories of how I threw my club further than the ball I had just hit or how many mulligans (do-overs) we allowed ourselves.  But he didn’t.

Instead of telling Kayla about how we played, he told her about what we talked about.  He told her about our conversations regarding the Baltimore Orioles and whether or not they’ll make a post-season run.  He spoke to her about what was going on at the Indianapolis Colts’ training camp and who we thought was going to make the team and who we thought was going to get cut.  He relayed to her some jokes that we exchanged and shared some of our views on a few TV shows we watch together.

And that’s when it hit me.  Tyler didn’t care about where we were or what we were doing that day.  All he cared about was that we were somewhere together….that we were doing something together.  That’s why he didn’t want to split up at the tee boxes or on the fairways.  Those times, although brief, would have interfered with our time together.

Our golf outing was a nice reminder.  I sometimes get so caught up with trying to impress my kids with a cool new experiences or exciting new places to visit, that I lose track of what’s most important.  Simply spending time together.  Talking.  And more importantly: listening.  So many times, they speak to us without even using words.