Had to get back to work and couldn’t finish my story about my son signing me up to be a Cub Scout Leader despite my version of camping being the Holiday Inn Holidome. Here is the first part of the story: My Son Nominated Me to Be a Scout Leader Part 1
I left off where my son announced to God and the world at the Den Master’s house (or whatever the hell he calls himself) that I would pick up the reigns from the last Scout Leader and lead the children into memorable learning environments. I was to teach them about helping others, community involvement and most importantly survival in nature.
Of coarse all the other parents were more than willing to sacrifice one of their own if that meant they didn’t have to meet once a week with these boys along with any other extracurricular that came along with the job. All the other parents seemed to be gazing off into the distance, whistling or avoiding eye contact with me or the Den Master. Thanks ass holes.
“So how bout’ it?” The Den Master asked.
“About leading?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s easy.”
I racked my brain trying to come up with the best exit strategy. I thought about lying and saying I have a terminal illness or that I’m gay but then I remembered the gay lie would only work if I were a male in cub scouts and my son would be scarred for life about the terminal illness. I decided to go with honesty.
“I would love to but I hate to camp. I mean, I think Holiday Inn is camping.”
“We only camp once at the end of the season and we can find other volunteers to take that part if you want.”
‘Yeah because everyone is just throwing themselves at you to volunteer,’ I thought.
The following week found me at a Cub Scout store buying an ugly troop leader uniform along with a uniform for my son. $150 later I was rockin’ Scout Chic.
I always think back to my favorite movie growing up: Troop Beverly Hills. Aside from the Mercedes, the daughter and the million dollar mansion, I was just like Shelly Long’s character learning the ins and outs of being a troop leader.
I wasn’t bad at it but wasn’t great either. I worked full time and would sometimes find myself racing home to put together some stupid craft. I wasn’t worried about the parents bitching about the quality of the craft because they knew they were indebted to me for taking one for the team.
One craft we made flowers out of tissue paper and pipe cleaners to give to their mothers for Mother’s Day. One of the scouts handed me his flower.
“Oh sweetie, thank you but this is for your mom,” I said honored.
“No, you take it.” He said.
“Why do you want me to have this over your mom?”
“Because your hot.”
Esqueeze me? I was speechless and didn’t know what to say. After the overall shock of the comment was over I put my serious hat on.
“I want you to give this to your mom. And J, you can’t say things like that to adults, ok?”
He nodded and went on his way. Later I told his mom. She wasn’t as angry as I thought she would be, actually laughed a little about it. This is the type of person that will grow up thinking a steak dinner at the local gentleman’s club on Wednesday is perfectly reasonable.
After several months, my son came to me and announced he didn’t want to do cub scouts anymore. All of a sudden I could hear the angels singing “hallelujah.” I almost felt rays of sunshine come down on my child at this announcement. I was ready to burn my uniform and everything that went with it.