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POPSTROKE

BarTenders Eatery

Kids Cheeseburger
Sliders

Two hand-pattied sliders, served with chips

A Saturday in late spring, just after lunch. My daughter, Josie, age eight, has opinions about everything: shoelaces, clouds, and above all, how a putt should be read.

"It goes uphill, then it goes down, Mom," she announced on the 5th, squatting behind the ball the way she'd seen someone do on television. She was right. It went uphill, then down, then directly into the cup. She looked at me with the quiet authority of a tour veteran.

I wrote a 2 on the scorecard. She made me underline it.

Lunch on the patio at the turn was her idea, too, and so was her pick from the kids menu. Kids Cheeseburger Sliders. Two of them, small and serious. Hand-pattied burgers, each tucked into a toasted brioche bun, golden and soft. American cheese melted over the top like a blanket on a cold morning. Chips on the side, which she counted before eating, a habit she gets from me.

She held a slider in each hand. Took alternating bites. Explained, between them, that the 9th hole was "tricky but fair." I nodded. I had three-putted the 9th.

When the plate was empty, she wiped her hands on her shorts, sprinted to the playground for exactly one trip down the slide, came back, picked up her putter, and said, "Okay. Back nine."

As though she'd been waiting her whole life to say it.

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