Lakewood Camping Resort is like its own little city. They have everything you could possibly need while on vacation – stores, restaurants, coffee shop, mail service, laundromat, and tons of fun things to do – pools, slides, sports, mini golf, boating, and, of course, the beach. Once inside, you can get around by walking or riding a bicycle, but most people opt to rent a golf cart. It makes lugging coolers and chairs to the beach much easier. Plus, driving a golf cart around for a week is just plain fun.
We rented one for the week. The golf carts are electric, so they don’t go too fast, and the campground has the necessary rules governing the use of them, so overall, even though there are hundreds of them driving around, it’s pretty safe.
I guess that’s why I didn’t consider the possibility of someone getting hurt. I should have learned my lesson when we went last year, and Ronnie managed to back into my shins not once, but twice. I’m surprised my bruised shins didn’t make more of an impression on me, but this year, I had forgotten about accidents, and I wasn’t careful at all.
Max and Kendra were sitting on the back seat, and I backed the golf cart out of our campsite. I halfway noticed as I looked over my shoulder to back up that Max was lying down instead of sitting properly, so I told him to straighten up. I didn’t, however, wait for him to sit up as I instructed, and when I put the golf cart from reverse to forward, I threw him off. He screamed and rolled on the pavement.
I jumped off and ran to him, looking around to see who all had noticed what a bad mom I was that morning. I checked him out, and he seemed okay, but he wouldn’t stop wailing – I think he was more mad at me than anything else. He was making the most of this opportunity to get back at me for throwing him off. He really made quite the scene, so I told him to go back in the camper.
Even though I was embarrassed and mad at myself, when it finally sank in that I had thrown my five-year-old son off a moving vehicle onto hot asphalt while he was wearing only swimming trunks, I started feeling really, really bad. I couldn’t shake it off. I apologized to him so many times. I asked him if he was mad. I begged him to forgive me. I told him it was an accident. I just couldn’t shake it off all day long.
Finally, that evening, all four of us decided to go for a golf cart ride around the campground. Max joked a few times as we drove around and told random people how his mom threw him off the golf cart. Funny boy. We were laughing and having a great time, really making up for my earlier incident of bad parenting. We even played some music and sang together. It was really fun.
All of a sudden, Ronnie, who had his feet propped up on the dash, hit the switch with his foot and the golf cart stopped in the middle of the road. I panicked just a little and jerked to a start without checking on the kids who were sitting on the back seat…
…well, I thought they were both sitting. Max was actually standing up, and when I started the golf cart – yep, you guessed it – I threw him off again. Does road rash scar? I sure hope not…