In the past we have had experience with mini-golf. Emotional experience, actually.
Last summer we did mini-golf near my parents' place in Idaho. Scott could play the game fairly well, but Katie struggled with the putter. This led to a great amount of frustration and tears. Eventually, she cast the putter aside and used her hands, which made her much happier. At the end the kids got a popsicle. Scott's was too large and was one of the great trial of his young life -- or so it would have seemed based on his handling of the situation.
Given this background, when we embarked on a mini-golf excursion to Professor Hacker's Lost Treasure Golf, we weren't sure how far into our expedition we might get before things might go off the rails.
The course was absolutely outstanding, complete with a pirate ship, waterfalls, caverns and even a train that delivers guests to one of two 18-hole courses. The train ride helps set the tone, but it also spaces guests out, so they aren't right on top of each other. That was helpful, because we let the little girls roam ahead of us, using their plastic putters like hockey sticks to score pink and purple goals while we pursued a more refined style of play.
Scott played between the two groups, and though he ran less, his face was probably just as flushed -- he gets that from me, and I get it from my mom. People sometimes think our kids are sunburned when we are outside on warm days, but really it's just that our capillaries are rich with blood. Great circulation.
Our expedition progressed in grand fashion all the way to hole #17, where little Ava's putter caught on something and she tripped headlong, smacking one of her front teeth on the ground. She bled quite a bit from her mouth and Tay had to remove himself from competition. He harrassed his wife Jamie endlessly because she finished the hole before coming to assist.
The course manager gave Ava a popsicle to ease her pains. How fitting. She seemed less conflicted about the popsicle as I might have expected, based on my previous experience.