The Scouts

This year marks the hundredth year of boy scouting.  This may mean nothing to you.  Here, there is great excitement, as two of the old badges have been brought back for this year only.  Well, Bruce is excited...Alan nominally so.  Pioneering, anyone?

I didn't know when we signed Alan up for Cub Scouts six years ago that the Boy Scouts of America would creep so deeply into our lives.  We now have two scouts of the male variety selling popcorn with the desperate yearning of boys trying to reach the prize level which receives a marshmallow-shooting cross bow.  Come to think of it, that does sound pretty neat.  In past years, we have had the garage full of boxes upon boxes of popcorn waiting for pick-up by the harassed parents of fellow pack mates.  The sale of popcorn funds many scouting events, such as camping and museum visits, as well as supporting a program which sends popcorn to the troops overseas.  Ok, popcorn in the garage is not so bad when you put it that way.

What I love is to see my husband in his scout uniform. He has a great time.  He spent some years as the leader of the pack [That's right, MASTER of the Cubs], and was rewarded with a battery operated self-turning marshmallow roasting fork. He added another patch to his shirt the other night, very pleased with his handiwork.  This is quintessentially my guy: poking around, telling kid jokes, fostering, learning.  He gets every bit as much as the boys do out of the experience.

As for me, Sophia's first Daisy scout meeting is yet to be held...but beware when cookie season rolls around!

If you see a scout, please consider buying some popcorn!

Kate