How (not) to camp

Last Friday was my chance to co-lead another Cub Scout meeting. It went a little better than the last time, but still had its challenges.

We were working on the Outdoorsman badge, commonly referred to as the camping badge. However, it's February, the local mountains are filled with snow, and neither my co-lead Liz nor I wanted to camp in the cold. So we came up with activities that prepared the boys for camping instead.

Liz and I explained that we were having a camp fire next month and cooking dinner over the fire. This simple statement was enough to start the questions rolling.

"Um, when is that?" one boy asked. "We might be busy that weekend."

"Yeah, I have to ask my dad first," another boy chimed in.

I assured them their parents already knew about it, and had confirmed they'd be there. Then I repeated that same statement eight more times for the other boys who might also have plans that weekend (even though they didn't know what weekend it was).

Liz explained that to hold a camp fire, we'd need food, j o b s and supplies. She stood at the ready to write down the list the boys came up with.

"Let's start with food," I said, and called on the boys to name food. They immediately answered s'mores, marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate. They answered that in various forms for about three minutes.

"Good, we'll have s'mores. What other food should we bring?" I pressed.

"Wine!" shouted one boy, and I told him, "I'm going camping with your parents!"

Eventually, our list included s'mores, hot dogs, and soup in a bag.

Next, we moved onto supplies.

"What will we need to start the fire?" Liz asked. This was met with answers such as wood, kindling, fires starter stuff, and wood again. "Oh, and newspaper!" one boy called out.

Someone suggested space heater, which we nixed when the boys realized a) there was no plug for a space heater, and b) a camp fire actually is a space heater.

They did agree that they'd need matches or a lighter, and at this point, the conversation broke down into claims of "I've started lots of fires before," "I've started hundreds of fires before," and "My dad always lets me light the camp fire." It took a few minutes to re-focus them on the activity.

The last list was j o b s. It read: fire starter, cookers, and "guys who throw wood in the fire."

"Good," I answered. "We'll have people to make the fire and the food. What about when we're done eat ing?"

They stared at me blankly. Liz asked, "What happens to all the plates and cups when we're done eat ing?"

The blank stares remained, so we gently suggested we'd need a clean up crew. The stares turned to wrinkled noses, and 10 boys called dibs on being in the fire starter group instead.

At this point, I noticed the room was growing louder. The cafeteria was filling up with Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts, and I panicked a bit. Usually, we're the only den holding a meeting before the big pack meeting. But there was a special bridging ceremony tonight, and before I could blink, the entire room was full. Our boys were completely distracted, and I doubted we'd get them back.

So we fed them instead. They scarfed down pizza, drank their juice, and shoved carrots in their pockets to avoid eat ing them. ("Make sure you check pants pockets carefully next time you do laundry!" I warned the other moms.)

Liz adjusted our activity plans, and we raced through the next activity. By now, the cafeteria was full of Scouts and parents, and our boys couldn't sit still. I took them outside with orders to run free for the next 15 minutes, until the pack meeting started.

They whooped with joy, and took off. Typical kids -- for all the planning Liz and I did, that was their favorite activity of the night.

Oh, well, things could've been worse. We could've been camping in snow!