We Bowled And The Adults Lost.
Apparently, my mother was on a bowling team in high school.
Who knew?
I actually clued in on the way to the bowling alley when she began throwing out phrases like, "Well, in 5-pin bowling you don't have good pin action like in 10-pin bowling."
Huh? What? Pin action?
So I probed.
She didn't have her own shoes or her own bowling ball {in my humble opinion the determining factor between someone who is really into bowling and merely enjoys it on occasion.)
She doesn't remember if she had a team shirt and if that team shirt had her name on it. {again, in my humble opinion, it seems like that would be important information to remember if you're going to throw out terms like 'pin-action'}
She didn't remember if she practiced every week or day or hour.
I think she might be lying, but that's just my take.
All she really remembered was that her Uncle Benny put together a team of employees from "The Cream Freeze" {of which she was one}.
She has really fond memories of working at The Cream Freeze {like a local Dairy Queen but better}. She says her Uncle Benny was a lot of fun. This is where her love of fountain Diet Coke began. I guess I can blame Uncle Benny for my issues with Diet Coke.
Back to bowling.
She casually stated that my dad had his own bowling ball. Which I take to mean that he was really into it. So now I must ask him for some details, because apparently, the bowling genes skipped a generation and landed squarely on Jackson.
Six-year-old Jackson.
We bowled.
I came in last, under 100. Maddie was 3rd. My mom was 2nd, barely over 100.
And Jackson.
HE HAD ONE-HUNDRED-FIFTY-SEVEN.
157.
They say that's a really good score for an adult, let alone a little person.
Two strikes, at least 2 spares. Unbelievable.
The kid might have a future on the bowling circuit. {I'm secretly hoping he latches onto the hockey, baseball or soccer circuit because, quite frankly, I like those jerseys better.}
So here's a little pictorial recap of our bowling adventure.
Little buddy was pretty proud of himself!