Cubbin'

There’s not much interesting to write about when all you do during the week is try to get the house clean.

Should I go on and on about how Wyatt follows me around while I Windex, licking the glass? Or how he follows me into the dining room when I clean the floors and wraps his chocolate covered chubs in the curtains?



No. I think instead I’ll talk about my one excursion this week, Cub Scout Training.

The minute I walked into the room I remembered from last year: I so do not belong here. The trainer thought so too. "If you're here for the clothing sale, it's downstairs," she said. To just me.

All premonitions were confirmed when the room stood to sing “I’ve got the Cub Scout Spirit up in my head” WHILE patting our heads (No escape. I was front row and center), I caught a glimpse of the hugo-mongous sweat circles under the arms of her uniform and I prepared myself for snippets of, “I camp in the pouring rain and I love it,” talk.

I could not make this stuff up. And this is before I find out the two-hour advertised training is whoops, really three hours.

…what a week… what a Saturday.

But I do got to say, I love those Cub Scouts. When I was Den Leader last year it was like having a birthday party every week. I loved the way they called me Akela in the halls at church. I loved the excitement they brought to birdhouses (“look Akela, I can hammer a nail in your table!”), food (Me: “Go wash your hands before refreshments.” Cubs: “Why?”), and skits – the lamer the funnier.



And I love what the program teaches my son and others – respect for God and country, service, and even things like take a shower and brush your teeth, EVERY day.



So now even though I only have a supervisory role in the program, I miss it. And I miss these boys.