The Chipmunk and the Flirty Six-Year-Old

Today was quite eventful. I took the fam out to eat at On The Border, and afterwards we all went over to MountAsia for an afternoon of mini-golf (aka putt-putt). We had been to a MountAsia in Mobile, AL before, but this was our first visit to the one in Marietta, GA.

The biggest difference was the crowd. After about 7 holes, it started backing up really bad. Behind us were a Dad and his two young daughters, maybe 6 years old or so. I had really not paid much notice to them until they started edging up to us while the kids were finishing up their shots. At one hole I had my hands in my pockets as one of the girls came up behind me and remarked (to someone, maybe her sister, maybe me) that she liked the bumper boats, and then... she slipped her arm in mine.

At that moment, I probably looked like this, as I stood their contemplating what just happened. I thought she would surely remove her arm in a moment, but no, so, thinking fast, I decided to shuffle a little. Finally she let me go. I squinted at her from behind my sunglasses, and for the next 9 holes darted hither and thither trying to maintain a healthy distance. In retrospect, perhaps I should have said something intelligent like, "Get off me!", but alas, my mind was not working fast.

I have never been more relieved to be done with putt-putt. But more excitement was just ahead!

Later in the day after we had arrived home, done some yardwork and whatnot, I heard a great clatter from the backyard, and Monica and I arose to see what was the matter. Sophie was "throwin' down" on a chipmunk, and Zachary was almost in tears trying to save the little beastie from destruction. Monica, having been reared on a farm in Southern Alabama, was able to retrieve said chipmunk and place it in an old bucket (formerly used as a resting place for the toilet plunger), whereupon it immediately went into shock, and, as the kids oft repeated, would not move.

Being the typical adult male that I am, I watched the proceedings from the living room couch, disseminating advice as I deemed appropriate. It didn't take long for Monica to decide she needed a second opinion; the local PetSmart store informed her that she could bring "David" (Zach had give it a name) in, and they would deliver it to someone who ran a local chipmunk rehabilitation clinic and spa (or something like that).

So we all piled back into the car, delivered the chipmunk, and returned home just in time for a wonderful supper prepared by Monica the Super-Mom. PetSmart got to keep the toilet-plunger bucket. And "David" is probably enjoying a hot-stone massage at this very moment.

Never a dull moment.