A Juice Box Or A Moon Leap

The youngest player competing in Augusta National's Masters Golf Tournament was docked a penalty stroke for slow play. Word is, in part, his mother was to blame as she followed her 14-year-old son around the course, urging him to partake of fruit and juice boxes.

I am so envious of her. I would love to follow Birdie around the University of Arkansas--a juice box at the ready should she show the slightest hint of thirst. It won't happen as my little bird would pick up a tree limb, or break off an entire tree, and beat me back to the Missouri line.

And it is not likely I would fare much better with Daisy. The sweet student nurse would likely lure me and my juice boxes into her car and then kick me out in some woodsy pasture surrounded by turkey hunters. The slightest chirp of protest and chances are my feathers would be the ones to fly.

My dear daughters don't want a mom to follow them. But I want them to know, I would if they asked. For them, I would scale rugged mountains, swim the China Sea or leap over the moon. I would eat liver. I would donate a kidney, an eye or an elbow. I would stop traffic, catch a Grand Slam baseball or learn to be a rodeo clown.

I wouldn't succeed at most of these activities the first time. But I would practice a lot and really hard. Birdie and Daisy deserve big band parade fireworks acknowledgement. They are my daughters and I'm proud of the strong, don't-follow-me-with-a-juice-box young women that they've become.