There’s a time and place for bad news

My wife sent these photos to me while I was on the golf course this morning.

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I have played golf with many married men and women whose spouses seem to feel the need to inundate them with bad news while on the golf course.

“The kids knocked over a lamp and are hitting each other with frying pans. When are you coming home?”

“Your mother called. Why can’t she be nicer to me?”

“The UPS man just rang the bell and woke up the triplets. Why the hell did you order a new power drill?”

I always feel terrible for these poor souls. Why not save the bad news for when the poor guy or gal gets home? When my wife is out with friends and I am home the kids, I make it a rule to tell her only positive things if she calls. If Clara has gnawed on Charlie’s pinkie finger to the point of making it bleed, there is no reason she needs to hear this news while enjoying dinner with friends.

There’s plenty of time for these stories when she returns home.

It’s a shame that more spouses don’t follow this advice. There’s nothing better than knowing that for the three hours that I am shanking drives, skulling wedges and missing putts on the golf course, the wife and kids are happy and having fun.

Even if they’re not.