kiwords

Tre had a Cub Scout den meeting tonight. Big night. I am proud to announce that tonight Tre earned the coveted Whittling Chip. Do you know what this means? This means he is now allowed to carry a pocket knife.
What the hell are they thinking?
Now, I have to admit this whole Whittling Chip thing is done well. They started the meeting by sitting down the boys around a table. On the table was a whole range of knives, from a little pocket knife, up to a giant meat cleaver. For once the entire gaggle of boys was silent. They stared, in awe. Rules about the proper use and care of knives were sternly read to them, and read back by them. They signed cards bearing these rules, as a promise to live by them. The rules include things like “I will not throw my knife for any reason.” These rules were written by people who know boys. And the boys have to carry their cards whenever they have their knives. If a Den Leader catches a Cub Scout with his knife and he doesn’t have his Whittling Chip card, he LOSES his knife. And if a Den Leader catches a Cub Scout doing something he shouldn’t be doing with his knife, he gets a corner cut off his card. If he loses four corners, he LOSES HIS KNIFE. And he can’t get another until he’s a Boy Scout. Serious stuff.
After the rules portion of the evening was done, they moved over to a newspaper covered table to practice opening and closing their new pocket knives. They carved soap. It was very manly and sober. These goofy eight year old boys all took to the task of carving bars of Ivory like the survival of the village depended upon it. They grimly discussed all the ways you could hurt yourself with a knife, if you weren’t careful. I stood in the corner and observed Tre as he gingerly opened and closed his knife under careful supervision. His glossy brown head bent over his work and he scraped soft curls of soap onto the newspaper. He glanced up, and seeing me watching he squared his shoulders and gave me a very adult nod. And grinned.
But see, I’m a mom. And I watched them hand my little boy, my baby, a knife and thought, “Oh no. I don’t think so. That simply cannot be a good idea.” I wanted to march over, snatch it out of his hand, and glare meaningfully at the Den Leader. Which is why, I suppose, Tre is in Cub Scouts. So someone will give him a pocket knife. Because LORD KNOWS I wouldn’t.
Humph.
Well, Tre is thrilled. And he’s taking the seriousness of it very earnestly. I think it’s good for him. I think this will help teach him responsibility. I think letting him take this on helps him develop his sense of self as he grows and matures.

I think I’ll go steal it out of his drawer.