So my son had cub scout day camp last week.
For those of you who do not live around me, note that not one day was less than 94 degrees Fahrenheit.
There were no - and I mean, no -- indoor facilities.
They fished with cane poles and worms, in the hot sun. The resolve!
They practiced archery and target shooting. The focus!
They learned water rescue techniques. The strength!
They concentrated on the fine details involved in tying 5 different kinds of knots. The concentration!
They survived "water fun" day which meant every single peer was armed with a loaded super-soaker all day long. The perseverance!
They even submitted to performing skits, singing camp songs, and doing their "den wild call." My son's, rather unfortunately, required him to make monkey calls and monkey arm gestures. The mirth!
All this, he could do.
But this week, there is no cub scout camp.
He is home.
In our air conditioned home. (The heat wave continues, ugh.)
So this morning, after his long, leisurely breakfast in front of his favorite cartoons, I asked him to clean the patio doors.
I equipped him with plenty of paper towels and cleaner and even demonstrated the technique.
Where is my scout? Where is the strength, the focus, the resolve???
It seems my son, practically an expert marksman, is unable to aim the Windex nozzle with any accuracy.
And the arms that deftly climbed a rope ladder and even pulled a comrade from danger in a most excellent water-rescue feat last week have gone limp, barely able to muster enough strength to scrub off the slightest dog-nose smudge.
It took almost 40 full minutes, gritted teeth, and warnings . . . and, really, the door is still not how it should be.
Camp? Self-reliance? Confidence? Perseverance?
I call for a "Mommy-Scout Day Camp."
Everyone: Get your boots on!
America, These People Actually Live In Your Country
14 hours ago