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Years
ago, when my husband and I were first married, I became a girl scout
leader. A neighbor of mine, who had a daughter, told me that the troop
in Charleston, where we lived, desperately was in need of a leader.
Beseeching me to fill in that gap, she prodded me to undergo the
extensive training required to become a full-fledged Junior (ages 9-11)
Girl Scout Leader. When I was finished, I was presented with a
troop of moody, turbulent young girls who didn't know whether they
wanted to be Madonna (the Britney Spears of the Day) or a young child. They seemed to fluctuate between crazed crying jags and moments where they were almost childlike and impressionable. I loved every minute of it- even the campouts, much to my great amazement, and figured that when the day came that I had children of my own, I'd be ready to lead THEIR girl scout troops with my great leader's skills. Along came child number one: boy. Child number two: boy- and my hopes dwindled to nonexistent that I would ever have my own girl scout troop which included my very own daughter. Child number three- boy, cemented the deal and I had pretty much forgotten about scouting until my youngest child became OBSESSED with joining the Cub Scouts. "Do you know," he pitched, "that we will use BOWS AND ARROWS and HATCHETS in Cub Scouts?!" The Scoutmaster General, or whatever esteemed title they bestow on the area's KING OF ALL BOY SCOUTING had visited the elementary school my son attends, and had pumped those kids up good by telling them all the fun things boy scouts do. He used such glorious words as "camping" "fishing" "bowhunting" and (and this was a doozy) "Pinewood Derby". My son would not rest, nay, could not even continue to draw another breath on the planet without joining the Cub Scouts. "Listen," I told my hubby, when our son revealed his grand plan of a life in the scouts, "this is YOUR terrain here. You used to be a boy scout. You are the same sex parent- I mean, let's face it, if we had GIRLS, then, well, I'd be HAPPY to be involved. After all," I couldn't help but mention, "I had all that girl scout training- I can't help it we had boys, but you are going to have to head up this parenting project here." We were nervous. In our previous town, the boy scout organization was run by a group of men, who at best, could be called freaks. By any standards imaginable, these were not the people any parent would want to associate with their young boys. Fifty year old single men who still lived at home with their mothers, and the like. So we were apprehensive that we could find almost any type of leadership in our new community. Luckily for us, everyone involved in scouting down here were people with regular old families; just moms and dads like ourselves looking to spend some more time with the kidlets in a wholesome activity. So our son is a Cub Scout. In the next week alone, he has a fishing cub scout meeting and a campover at a state park which includes a "Fishing Rodeo". (I don't know how one wrangles a fish, but I guess I am going to find out soon enough). My girl scout training makes me qualified to do just about nothing in the boy scout organization, and though I can thrash together a log table like nobody's business, I am happy to take the backseat to the males in the family. While my husband and my son pitch tents, I may actually have some free time to do my nails, or even, (worse case scenario): do some housecleaning with no dirty boys underfoot. Because get this- the Cub Scouts WELCOMES, nay, ENCOURAGES sibling participation. That means my husband can take ALL THREE BOYS camping at one event, leaving the house momentarily testosterone free. I am thinking that I am liking this scouting life more and more by the minute. Although it would have been nice to have set up a table of Girl Scout cookies at the Winn Dixie, my daughter and I, resplendent in our green shorts and white scout shirts, this set-up is certainly not without its own set of benefits. My son is happy because he gets to carry a pocket knife and wear a uniform, my husband is not too unhappy about sleeping in the woods (I never was such a willing participant in this particular activity- not really seeing the point of roughing it when comfort could be achieved so easily), and I am happy as a clam trying to figure out what on earth I will do with an evening or two of free time to myself.
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