It's not a park, it's a golf course. And no, you can't play in the sand trap.

It's not his fault. Not really. We've trained Little Man to identify large grass fields as "parks". So of course he expects to frolic across the well-watered fields of the nearby golf course on a hot summer's day.

It was so humid out I could actually feel my elbows sweating. You didn't think elbows could do that, did you? Well they're not just a couple of funny bones.... when it hits 35 degrees out, they, too, will sweat. And if my elbows were perspiring, my poor little man must have been dying under his mop of curls, his giant sun hat, and the stifling confines of his neon green stroller.

"Pawk! I play, momma?"

"It's a golf course, sweetie. We can't play there."

"Pawk, pawk, pawk!" he insisted.

"Golf course, golf course, golf course!" I crowed right back.

Little Man is not easily dissuaded. Upon seeing a group of golfers congregating around hole 9, he tried to leap from his stroller. "HOCKEY!!!! HOCKEY Park! I play too? More? More? Puyyyyyyyeaaaaase Momma?"

Sigh. There's no use. The boy loves hockey. How am I supposed to explain to the lad that golfers use a long stick to maneuver a small ball into a hole while hockey players use a long stick to maneuver a small ball into a net. Same difference to a not-quite two year old.

"Not yet. You can golf when you're bigger," I try and reassure him. "I bigger now? I ready!" he exclaimed.

The walk continued in silence for 2.8 seconds until he spotted the sand trap. "Sandbox! Momma? I play? Pyease?"

He gazed hopefully at a stranded golfer in said sand trap. He even elicited a smile from the man (who was cursing under his breath) after imploring him, "I play you? Hockey now?"

"Sorry, honey, it's a park, not a golf course. And no, you can't play in the sand trap."

I won't even start on his reaction to the water hazard....

For future reference, all walks with Little Man will occur AFTER night falls, far from the call of the golf course.