kiwords

I signed Tre up to be a Cub Scout tonight. He is thrilled. He is simply beside himself. Of course, you must understand that for Tre Cub Scouts has two basic meanings. 1) He will sell MORE GREENERY THAN ANYONE and therefore win the Gameboy SP, and 2) He will be getting a pocket knife. Any minute. His friend from across the street is a Cub Scout, and he has a pocket knife. AND he informed Tre that just about everything you do in Cub Scouts requires a pocket knife.
So Tre and I went to tonight’s meeting and scooted to a seat in the back. After a few minutes of flag stuff and greeting, the boys were taken off to another room to play raucous games while the adults talked. That mainly meant lots of sincere pleas for volunteers. Finally they brought the kids back. Tre had looked a touch anxious, leaving with a herd of kids he didn’t know, so I was glad to have him come back. He rushed over to me and sat down. As we turned our attention back to the leaders he leaned over and whispered, “I had fun. The kid next to me, wow. He acted like Max when he’s tired [this means bizarre and hyper behavior].” I nodded, trying to listen to the troop leader or pack leader or whoever was talking about the big greenery sale. Tre leaned over again. “I didn’t get a pocket knife yet. Maybe next week.”
Well, after the meeting we talked about it, and now Tre knows that we’ll find out IF he needs a pocket knife next week at his pack meeting. Or is that troop meeting? Den meeting? Sheesh, no way I can figure all this stuff out. Like the different levels. There’s Tiger Cubs, then they become Cub Scouts, then Webelos, then Boy Scouts. Ok, I know what a tiger is. I understand “cub” and Lord knows I’m familiar with “boy.” But what the heck is a webelo? Mom’s helpful take on that is that it’s a little, small something underneath. You know, a wee below. Dad, on the other hand, is certain that it refers to something that wobbles, but doesn’t fall down. Thanks, guys. What would I do without you?
In other news, Pepe` is doing much, much better. This is a great relief to all of us, especially Max. He’s been following the poor dog around, petting him and whispering comfort. Whenever Pepe` moved anywhere, Max would carry his water bowl to him, leaving asterisks of water on the floor all over the house. Well, Pepe` slept on Max’s bed last night and all the tender care (plus the medication) have worked wonders. He’s even started bringing balls and dropping them at our feet again. He’s not the only one breathing easier around here.
Finally, let me share with you a moment with Raphael. Have I mentioned he’s two? Oh, ok then. So he spent the day doing his level best to destroy the world. This evening he was standing on a chair, turning a light on and off. I was around the corner, talking to Dad in the kitchen. I overheard Raphael talking to himself, something like this, “Ah turn it OFF. Ah do it my SELF. Ah’m SHOOPERMAN! Ah’m da IRON GIANT! Ah’m Punkin’ Buug!”
And indeed he is.