Scouting for a new hobby

I did it, I took the plunge. I may regret it, especially come camping time, but Mark is now officially a Cub Scout.

We signed up at a parent's meeting on Wednesday night, and attended our first pack meeting last night, where Mark was most excited when the pack leader announced there were snacks afterwards.

I thought the whole uniform idea might be a show stopper--Mark really hates wearing one to school. Before I handed over any registration fees, I explained that if he joined, he had to suck it up about the uniform.

"I can just wear a different hat," he told me, watching a couple Scouts run past us.

"No, you can't. The uniform is the SAME for every kid--including the hat."

"Well, I can wear a different--"

I stopped him. "No, you can't! You wear what the other kids wear. Or you don't join."

He thought about it for a minute, looked at the boys chasing each other around, laughing, and said, "Fine."

I shouldn't have worried. We bought the uniform today, and he had it on before we even left the parking lot. He was so proud of his new blue shirt with all the patches, and happy that the shorts hit his knees. He loved the neckerchief with the metal bear slide holding it in place, although he thought the bear looked more like a wolf. He even loved the hat, except when I insisted that Cub Scouts do not wear their hats backwards.

I'm still a little nervous about the whole thing. I'm more of a hotel kinda camper than a tent camper, and I really worry about camping with his diabetes. I worry that we'll camp somewhere cold, and his insulin will freeze, or somewhere with bears, and I won't have any sugar in the tent for those terrible nighttime lows. Or that we'll have some kind of medical emergency out in the middle of nowhere. I guess I shouldn't stress so much--a couple years ago, a guy with diabetes climbed Mt. Everest, and he survived (but I bet his mother was a nervous wreck the whole time!).

I also know he'll eventually want to go camping without me--but who will count his carbs, or check his blood sugar at night? Who will treat him if he's too low to treat himself? In the three years that I've had him, he's never spent a night away from me, unless it was at diabetes camp, where they checked his blood sugar constantly. I guess I'll do a lot more camping than I ever wanted to.

And I'm a little worried about all the adults wearing scout uniforms. I commend them for being actively involved in their child's hobby. But I'm afraid I will end up a den mother or something, in a similar uniform, and khaki is definitely NOT my color. I'm all for insisting that Mark wears his uniform, but I'm not much into the idea of one for myself...

I love a man in a uniform

It's only the second day of school, and already we've had our first uniform breech. That's right, the little man decided to take his wardrobe into his own hands, and as anyone who's seen him in his weekend attire can attest, that's never a good sign.

I should have known better, but like I said, it's only the second day of school. I wasn't expecting the infractions to begin so quickly.

It all started last year, when Mark rebelled against the school uniform by wearing undershirts beneath his school polo. At first they were simple white t-shirts (acceptable) but eventually they graduated to black, flaming long sleeve t-shirts (not acceptable). This invariably lead to multiple layers--black flaming long sleeves, with a basketball jersey on top, with a school polo on top of THAT. Kid looked like the Stay-Puft marshmallow man!

So when I dug my heels in and said white t-shirts only, he started sneaking clothes into his backpack. I punished him by making him do the laundry (I figured if he didn't mind causing twice the loads, he wouldn't mind doing twice the loads).

Eventually, he moved onto shorts. But not any old shorts. Kathleen's boyfriend Tim gave him a pair of size 16 boy's shorts (Mark wears a 7), which hit him at the ankles. They were super baggy, and one day I got a call from school that it was not acceptable for Mark to wear such shorts, especially not when belted with a piece of twine he found in the school yard. My child was dressing like a hobo, and the school thought I was responsible! (I didn't know he snuck them to school in his backpack.)

I was suitably embarrassed, and at that point, simply took his backpack into the bathroom when I showered (the only point in the morning where he is alone, and susceptible to mayhem).

ANYWAY...all that leads up to this morning. After Mark sulked on his walk to school (it's going to be a loooooong year), I waited patiently to buy him a school t-shirt and a homework planner. I thought he'd be excited since he can wear the t-shirt instead of a polo shirt. But when I gave it to him, he refused to change in public, and ran off to the bathroom. I opened his backpack to put the new planner inside, and that's when I found the rogue black t-shirt.

Mark returned in a huff because the bathrooms were locked. He watched me pluck the black shirt out of the backpack, the school t-shirt out of his hands, and them turn and walk away silently. There would be no shirts but the polo for him today. He's a stubborn kid, though, and he wasn't going to give up without a fight.

"What about the t-shirt?" he called as I walked away. I ignored him, so he cupped his hands and yelled again, louder. But I was already halfway up the block, two new shirts in my hands and the faint echo of "What about my stinkin' shirt???" in my ears.

Somebody's getting extra laundry duty in my house tonight, and it's not me...