I went to my first pack meeting last night. Okay, I may have attended a pack meeting once or twice when my brothers were younger, but I don't remember them. Maybe I blocked them out. I think that probably even if I'm in cub scouts for the rest of my life, I'll never quite understand a pack meeting. Maybe it was the ratio of estrogen to testosterone in our house that left me unprepared for the antics of a bunch of boys and grown men who were once boys, and the den mothers keeping them in check.
Most hilarious to me was the meeting cheer. Girls don't do cheers at social events. At least not the girls I grew up with. Those are reserved for basketball games, when you do all kinds of things you normally wouldn't do, like make Beehives cry. (I may have sucked at basketball as a young woman, but I kid you not: my best achievement was fouling out of a Young Women's game after getting a little too aggressive stealing balls from 12 year olds.) So, anyway, the cheers threw me off. And I had to really contain myself from laughing at the scouts as they did their skits, because I was giggling on the inside. It was incomprehensible. I still have no idea what one of the skits was about. I don't know if it made me excited or terrified to have boys someday. Because they're going to grow up to be cub scouts. And wear official cub scout socks. I didn't know there are offical cub scout socks. Also, they are going to earn a lot of badges I'll have to sew onto shirts. And we all know how good my sewing skills are. Maybe I'll get Madeline to do it as a Young Women's project. Right after I teach her how to make Beehives cry.
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