Scout's honor

This weekend was a hub of activity, and I'm sad to say, not much of it centered around me. Instead, it was focused on Mark, and his journey to manhood.

Or rather, to Scouthood. On Sunday, he spent his last weekend in front of a table hawking mistletoe (the pack's big fundraiser for the year). As always, it proved highly entertaining.

Mark was joined by four other Scouts from his den. Although the table was on a low-traffic part of the street, they still managed to reel in every person walking by.

"Mistletoe!" they shouted to the potential customers standing one foot away from them. "Get your mistletoe for only one dollar!"




As proof that people really are good and just, almost everyone stopped. They looked into the earnest eyes of those young scouts and purchased a bag of mistletoe.

The boys worked as a team to draw people in.

Jonah yelled, "Buy 200 bags, get 1 free!" Surprisingly, there were no takers.

Daniel expertly called out to passersby, and drew in quite a few. After one laughing couple left, he came over to ask if the boys were allowed to joke with customers, and his mom assured him they were.

Sebastian kept the table well-stocked with merchandise. And Mark did his part as well, giving customers the sad little puppy dog eyes we'd practiced in the car on the way over.

"Would you like to buy some mistletoe?" he asked one man passing by. The man kind of shook his head, but before he could take another step, Mark said in his saddest, most-innocent voice, "Please?" Sold!

There were moments of squirelly-ness, since our salesmen were only ten years old. A bout of the ninja game erupted, and the salesmen were instructed to stop karate-chopping each other, which almost never happens at other sales venues. They also tried stomping on each other's toes quite a bit.

One person bought multiple bags, which pleased the boys immensely. "That was our most profitable sale yet!" they told the lady.

Another lady bought a bag and held it above her head. "Does it work?" she asked, and five boys immediately scooted back, horrified that she might actually try it on them. Her boyfriend loved that, and asked them very seriously, "What do you do with this?"

The boys stammered and giggled nervously, shoving each other to the forefront to explain. They hemmed and hawed, refusing to answer or say the word "kiss." The man pressed on, until finally one boy said, "That's all I'm gonna say about that!" and the other boys nodded silently in agreement. It was hilarious!

But that wasn't all the fun for the day. Mark will move up to Boy Scouts soon, so he attended his first Boy Scout meeting as well. I learned that the troop is very active, and will, quite possibly, give me a heart attack. The boys will go camping, hiking, rock-climbing and even white-water rafting.

Our little boys practiced by rappelling down from the gym ceiling. They were harnessed in tightly, which they quickly realized limited their mobility. Watching them try (and fail) to run while hobbled was priceless, and my friend Liz immediately said she was going to buy some harnesses for our boys.

There were two Boy Scouts helping strap them in, and the first asked how tightly they were supposed to cinch the harnesses.

"Until it hurts," said the second Scout, and I realized that being in the Boy Scouts for Mark will be like having 70 big brothers. I fell in love with the troop right then.




So stay tuned...Mark may be aging out of the Cub Scouts and all the fun stories that go with it, but never fear, here come the Boy Scouts. And after watching last night's activities, I know the funny stories will continue...

Chistmas kicked my butt today

(It kicked Mark's booty, too...)

We started the morning with Mark's Cub Scout den, selling fresh mistletoe in front of Trader Joe's. I worried that Mark would whine or complain (because this involved actual work), but he did great.

At first, he was only interested in the money box. He wanted to arrange and rearrange the bills. A few people asked what we were selling, and Mark said, "You can sell it, Mom." I reminded him that no one wants to buy mistletoe from a grown woman--they want to buy it from cute little Cub Scouts.

I gave the kids some advice--smile big and hit up all the moms and grandmas. They can't resist a clean-cut boy in a uniform. Be polite, say thank you. And make eye contact with every person who walks in or out the exit.

It worked! We sold about 100 bag in just under two hours. The boys got very creative, shouting out, "Mistletoe for sale! Only one dollar, and NO tax!" I thought that was a very smart sell, considering the economy.

We only lost one sale the whole morning, when a woman explained what mistletoe is for. "You hang it up and kiss whoever walks under it," she teased, comically puckering up at Mark. He ran away quickly, bag still in hand.

After lunch, we put up the house Christmas lights. I climbed up the little step ladder hanging them while Mark followed behind, handing them up to me. He was very helpful, even warning me not to fall (like last year, when I almost knocked myself out) or cut myself on the broken orange light.

Then it was time for the big Christmas purchase--the TREE! We went to the same lot as last year, because they delivered our tree for a couple extra bucks. Except it was a different group selling trees this year! Dang it. I couldn't figure out how to get a tree home in my little compact car. I drove over to Lowe's to buy myself some time, and perhaps think of a solution.

The solution was...to toss safety out the window! Literally. When you buy a tree, they wrap it up in a mesh bag until it's a skinny little fir tree roll. I figured if I bought a medium-sized tree, I could toss the tree in the back seat, let it hang out the window a bit, and we'd be home in no time, tree (and car) intact.

I just forgot one little thing--the backseat is where Mark sits. And he was not very amenable to riding back there with a Christmas tree on top of him (spoilsport!).

Which left him...the front seat. When we grew up, not only were kids allowed to ride in the front seat, they fought to ride in the front seat. Every car ride of my childhood began with one kid screaming "SHOTGUN!" three other kids groaning, "Awww! No fair!" and one parent yelling, "Just get in the damn car!"

Back then we didn't have fancy front seat airbags--hell, we didn't even have seatbelts. (Or even, for me and my little brother, seats!) But nowadays, they put graphic images of little kids being squished to death by said airbags on the sun visor. Everywhere you turn in the car, it's telling you don't let kids under 12 in the front seat.

Well, those instructions are completely not helpful when it comes to Christmas trees and compact cars. I estimated the ride home was short--only five minutes-- which I've driven a thousand times without an accident.

So front seat airbags be damned, we threw the tree in back, sticking out the window, and Mark in the front seat. He was thrilled. He told me very seriously he wanted to watch me push every button (apparently, he thinks that's how you drive a car), then he set about pushing every button himself.

"What's this button do?" he asked, changing the radio station seven times in a row. "And is A/C on? What's A/C? What's Auto? Can I lock my door?"

It felt kinda funny to have him riding next to me--for once, I didn't feel like his chauffeur. I asked him to stop touching everything--between that and the tree flapping out the window, it was just too distracting. But I let him roll down the window, which he promptly stuck his head out of, and did his best dog impression with the wind whipping through his hair.

Soon enough we were home, and the tree was ceremoniously displayed and decorated. We drank hot chocolate and listened to Christmas music, which he mocked by asking, "Is this your boooooyfriend singing?"

"Yes, this is Harry Connick Jr.," I told him. "Don't talk about your daddy like that!"

In the end, I was really tired, but the house looks great. I am glad to be done with the big Christmas tasks (OK, well, maybe not shopping), even if I have to take it all down again in three or so weeks. But in the meantime, I enjoyed the outside lights and the fresh pine smell inside. And, most of all, I enjoyed the helpful little elf by my side all day.