When I was a teenager, I read One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, liked it very much, and took away from it that I might very well one day be erroneously institutionalized as well. So, yeah, I am pretty much just a great big Pollyanna!
I don’t really want to have a lobotomy or shock treatments to “smooth me out,” but I am having a huge temper tantrum within right now. I am a terrible cub scout parent, as I have established previously. Just the worst attitude imaginable. I am pissed that we have to buy a dorky shirt, pissed that we have to affix things to it, pissed that we have to spend three hours later at the Blue and Gold Banquet eating buffet style food and sharing scouting warmth with the real scout families.I am not allowed to finish putting stuff on the shirt because I wanted to turn the 8 sideways to represent the degree to which I feel that scouting exists to push me over the edge of sanity.
See? Don’t think I don’t know that there are a couple of people who are looking up the mental health hotline to post in a comment, or at the very least are sending anonymous reports to the Cub Scout Purification League about a parent who is not worthy of the moniker “Akela.” My previous post about our substandard pinewood derby car has probably already situated my name in a folder somewhere. A real folder, made of paper. The list inside is, predictably, black. I’ll bet scouts had some nice Y2K stashes back before everything fell apart and stopped working.
Thanks in advance for your purchase of our carefully packaged spices for your cooking enjoyment! Blue and Gold forever!