kiwords

Thank you, everyone, for your comments. I’m even glowier than I was, after all your kind words. I would like to promise that I would respond to all of them, but that would lead me to the situation I’m currently grappling with, wherein there are 79 unanswered comments haunting my inbox since the two year anniversary post.

*hangs head in shame*

But I will try! And I love you all! And yes! We told his parents first! And I love you!

Ahem.

Sorry, still a bit giddy.

How giddy? Well, yesterday it snowed great huge buckets of snow. Wet, heavy, drippy stuff that broke limbs off trees all over town. In our front yard, the snow leaned so heavily on the full compliment of leaves that was still on our peach tree, that it split the dang thing three ways, right down the trunk. Just shattered our perfect little peach tree.

And I? Splashing through the slush and ice? Smiled like a fool all day. Tra-la-la! Snow! Destruction! Did I show you my ring?

I am insufferable.

Where was I? Ah yes, back to the real world.

Not only are we in full soccer season, we’re hip deep in scouts too. Tre is a first year Webelo, and Max is a Tiger Cub. You know what that means, right?

Popcorn.

Now, I gotta say, the Boy Scouts get totally ripped off on the fundraiser. I mean, Girl Scouts get the cookies, and who doesn’t love Girl Scout cookies? I personally have sent at least seventeen Girl Scouts to summer camp on my Thin Mint issues alone. When an adorable Girl Scout shows up on your doorstep, clutching her cookie order form, don’t you just HAVE to smile? I mean, Girl Scouts! Cookies! It’s wonderful!

The Boy Scouts, on the other hand, get stuck with POPCORN. And yeah, it’s fine, but really, who cares? Popcorn is everywhere. Girl Scout cookies? You can only get those from Girl Scouts.

Oh well. As a happy Cub Scout family, it is our duty to move the popcorn, already (and I have to admit that I’ve got my eye on that chocolate-covered caramel stuff…), so that’s what we did today. We went down to Dad’s work and harassed the people he works with. And tonight we walked the neighborhood, calling in allllll the credits I’ve accumulated by never, no never being able to say no to a child with a fundraising form and a hopeful look. Mom took Tre up one side of the street and I took Max up the other side.

As we walked up the drive to the first house, I quizzed Max on his presentation.

“Now what are you going to say when they answer the door?”

He sighed and launched into his speech.

“Hi, my name’s Max, and we’re selling popcorn for my Cub Scout pack. Would you like to look at what we have available?”

“Good, now remember to speak nice and loud, and look them in the eye.”

“I KNOW, Mama.” He shook his head at me, and we walked on in silence. “You know, I’m so good at this, I’m practically acting like a grown up.”

I looked at him, in his Scout uniform, with a little macaroni and cheese on the collar. His boots were soggy from an afternoon of playing in the snow, and one hand toyed nervously with the slide holding his kerchief around his neck.

Ah yes, practically grown up.

The first house was our next door neighbor’s (natch). The husband answered the door, a nice man who never looks askance at our lawn, despite the fact that his looks a gazillion times better. You gotta love that in a neighbor.

He invited us in, and I nudged Max, suggesting he start his speech. He stared in slack-jawed silence.

“Max? What do you have to say?” I urged.

He looked from me to the neighbor, apparently completely aphasic.

“You’re selling popcorn…” I prompted.

He nodded and shoved the form and the pen at the man, then took two quick steps back, so he was standing behind my left elbow.

Ok, perhaps a few years from grown up, still.