Scene: Father and son, age 10, playing golf. The father is increasingly frustrated with his game; the son is running around and having fun.
Father hits another bad shot, rolling his ball 45 degrees to the left.
: Nice. Real nice.
: Dad, why do you keep complimenting yourself when you hit?
Later that same hole, after the father has given into the golf gods and picked up his ball, the son decides to try a Happy Gilmore-style running swing.
: Come on, play the hole like you know how.
(muttering): At least I finish the hole.
Me, I parred the hole.