Classified

Yesterday was the Man-Cub’s first Cub Scout meeting. In the morning, he stood proudly in front of the mirror in my bedroom in his uniform, shoulders back, head held high and compared himself to a soldier in the military at which point his sister entered the room and positively squeed over him; You are just precious!

I’m not entirely certain that precious was the look he was going for exactly.

When I picked the kids up at the school later in the afternoon, I inquired as to how their day had gone. The Girl gleefully filled me in on how sucessful her day as a Peer Mediator had been (she stopped two fights! Single handed!) and crowed about how well she had done on the previous night's math homework despite my obvious inferiority at 5th grade math (common denominator? The hell? Did I even learn that in the 5th grade?)

The Cub's day did not go quite as well; he somewhat reluctantly admitted that several of the older boys had teased him and his fellow Scouts about their uniforms during recess, which kind of sucked the wind right out of the sails on the good ship Cub Scout. I tried to convince him that they were just jealous of his cool neckerchief but he wasn’t buying it. Finally, I told him that, should they repeat their taunting next week, he should tell them that being a Scout was preparing him for his future career in the Secret Service and that he had already learned three hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands. Without leaving a mark. And, without a sound.

Let us hope that The Girl is assigned to mediate next Tuesday's recesses, otherwise, my son is so going to get beat up on the playground.