Missed

I'm pretty sure it is genetic or maybe it's something passed down from generation to generation, but Scott was destined to be a Cubmaster.






And Cubmaster he was. Since 2004, he has worn the tan shirt and goofy smile of a man who still laughs at boy humor. Destiny.




And now we are moving on as Keaton has moved up in ranks from Cub Scouting to Boy Scouting. There are a few things that will be missed.

I will miss the Annual Snow Sledding Trip. You know, where my husband spends our anniversary or other MAJOR events sweeping the lodge clean so he can secure a "sweet" lottery spot for our boys each year. Who needs flowers, just hand me a dang broom.


And I'll miss walking in the parades, throwing candy into HUGE wet puddles. What's a bit of rain, right? Okay, how about a huge downpour? We've got spirit, yes we do!








And Keaton and his best bud Adam always manage to get their Rank Advancement Awards each year at the same time. I'll definitely miss that.

And I'll miss when my husband dresses up in the Native American attire to pass out the awards.

I won't ever forget the first time his daughter saw him in it. The room was quiet and dark, lit only by the fake "campfire" to set the mood. Sophie blurted, "WHY IS DAD DRESSED UP LIKE A CHICKEN?" I almost wet myself laughing and I wasn't the only one.

I'll miss knowing that my son is eating sugary foods in quantities that would surely induce some sort of coma. Does he need a revolving account at the Trading Post for heaven's sake?

I'll miss knowing that my son is being shown the "proper" way to shoot a rifle. At least he won't poke his eye out.

And I have more Gimp keychains that any mother could ask for. I'll totally miss that! What a stylish accessory!

And I'll miss the many newfound uses for styrofoam cups. The possibilities are unlimited. Some are uh, more resourceful in the woods than others.

I have to admit, I might even miss the cheesy & dorky boy skits. The jokes that are borderline inappropriate. I'll miss the Pinewood Derby and tweaking the car so it won't go over the weight limit.

We're moving on and up into true Boy Scouts. And thank heavens for one thing that rings true to both groups; what happens at Camp, stays at Camp. It's the end of an era and even though I don't want to say it--it'll be missed.