The golfing day was done and the Boy and I were reclining in the big comfy chairs next to the unlit fireplace, enjoying our after-game snack and drink. A bottle of red Gatorade was split between two ice-filled glasses for our enjoyment and refreshment. The clock behind us was creeping up on the supper hour and so I indicated we should finish up and head out to the car and home. I raised my glass to finish my drink and the Boy reached for his. In a moment it became obvious that he was trying to race me (at first) or keep up with me (second) as I downed my drink. He was mildly put out that he wasn't able. Sensing a mood shift in what had been a delightful afternoon so far, I grabbed him and hugged him, playfully teasing him over the attempt.
Me: Oh, you weren't ever going to win. I have such a big mouth and you have a lovely little mouth.
Boy: And you have really big guts and I only have little guts.
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