It turns out the jar of golfballs is a magnet for a certain grandson, the child who can do no wrong.
He lured his aunt into retrieving the balls out from under the TV.
And then he rolled them into the office.
The balls came out again over Thanksgiving. I figured with the crowd that balls on the floor would be a bad idea so I came up with a worse idea - showing grandson how to roll them down the stairs to the basement. Oh how he giggled with delight over that noise!
So the party was over and the balls returned to the jar... most of them at least. I was missing a few. Last night I was loading the washing machine and as I passed the pool table a small pink ball caught my eye. In the trough were seven golfballs.
I'm not sure what went on in the basement on Thanksgiving, but it looks like the golfballs had a good time!
