The Golf Gods, And Thomas The Train, Blessed This Golf Writer With An Empty House During Masters Week

For many, myself included, the Masters brings out the same feeling you get as a kid on Christmas morning, and not just for one day, but for four consecutive days. Presents aren't often part of the equation, but this year, for yours truly, Santa Claus stopped by the Harris house early.

Before we get into this story that will undoubtedly land me in the doghouse and result in me being handed the most ridiculous honeydew list any husband has ever seen, I want it in writing that nothing brings me more joy in life than hanging out with my wife and two-year-old son. 

Except watching the Masters. I'm  ̶t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ kidding, of course. 

You've probably never heard this before, but your life changes when you have kids. It changes for the better the instant your child enters the world, but it changes in every single facet you can imagine.

For the golf-loving dads out there, especially those who have very young children, your Masters viewing experience has also undergone some serious change. 

Gone are the days of watching every minute of the coverage with your only worry being if there are enough cold beverages in the fridge to get you through the day. Now you're happy if you see 10 uninterrupted shots on the broadcast and maybe a handful of others while one eye is on your TV and your other is on your kiddo standing dangerously close to the wall with a crayon in hand.

Watching the Masters with a young child is an experience. (Photo by Ben Jared/PGA TOUR via Getty Images)

For the countless dads around the world who will be living that exact scenario this weekend, just know that you are in my thoughts. When you have to inevitably throw Sesame Street up on the big screen as the leaders make the turn on Sunday, and you're forced to try to watch the coverage from your phone while also trying to hide it from your wife, just remember that Mark at OutKick is sending you positive vibes…

…from the comfort of his own couch inside of his empty home with multiple screens streaming every single broadcast available.

It just so happens that a certain locomotive by the name of Thomas the Tank Engine is making a stop in a city not too far from where we live. Just far enough where it can't be made into a day trip with a two-year-old in the car, and in a town where we just so happen to have very close friends with multiple spare bedrooms that have nothing going on this weekend.

Of course, I would love to see the joy on my son's face when he lays eyes on a life-size version of his favorite train, but dad can't help the fact that he writes about golf for a living, nor is it his fault that Thomas arrives Sunday morning of the Masters.

While the golf gods and the hero that is Thomas the Tank Engine deserve hat tips, I think it's probably my wife who deserves all the credit here, allowing (and yes, allow is the proper word) her husband to watch the Masters in peace. 

The real beauty of it all is that they should be back home Sunday evening just in time to watch the final few holes unfold. Then the game begins of keeping the little man invested in the golf long enough before mom and dad give in and meet his demands of turning on ‘Dars’ so he can see Lightning McQueen.

But hey, I wouldn't have it any other way.