Tis the season. The season to overload the boy in any way imaginable. Let me be clear on this, and I mean actually clear, not presidential candidate clear. I’m all for extra curricular activities. I wish I had done more and been interested more as a kid. My laziness has been well documented here. My hope is against all odds the kids won’t be.

So I’m glad Frank is showing interest in things other than the iPad or his favorite show on TV. But we’ve gone from his father being a lazy, least resistance path taker to let’s join everything. I got tired just typing that sentence. It’s not just joining so many things at once, it’s what he’s joining.

I mean soccer I get. Me and the runt (my 3yr old daughter) have become hooked on Premier League Football. Go Arsenal! Sometimes Frank will watch with us for a bit and that may have encouraged he renewed interest in playing. I dig it.

Piano was not something I would have thought interested him. Grammy has a piano and he bangs on that once in a while. But that sounds more like a very cheap vase breaking as it bounces down the stairwell of a parking garage than anything resembling music. However, having said that, the kid has an aptitude with math. As it turns out kids good with one can be easily drawn to the other. Plus the piano teacher has a son a year or two older and Frank busted through the door after his first lesson yapping about making a new friend.

So victory on day one of piano. My back is already breaking when I think of the next logical step in the piano learning of my oldest spawn. Oh, if you’ve read this blog at all you know what’s coming. I imagine I won’t even be notified by management until the damn thing needs to be moved into the house. Frank’s next door buddy got drums for Christmas, so maybe there is a garage band in our hood’s future once the piano arrives.

Of course I’m not sure when he’ll have time to play since it appears we’ll be camping and helping old people and selling popcorn marked up at astoundingly high prices. That’s right the boy is in scouting. Cub Scouts to be exact, he’s a Tiger in Den 1.

I absolutely cannot believe I just typed that last sentence with a straight face, devoid of snark.

So yeah, scouting. Needless to say I was never a cub scout, weeblo, boy scout or what have you. To be honest I don’t know much other than their popcorn prices make the girl scout cookies seem like a fire sale. I have no issue with scouts in general. I’m just surprised how excited he was/is about it.

Apparently the head shed of the Great Smokey Mountain Council went to Frank’s school and pitched to all the classes. Well this guy must be a great salesman cause Frank ran home from the bus waving his sign up form. Again he was yammering about bow & arrow, BB Guns, and camping. Only golf used to get him that excited.

My only issue at that moment was how much after school stuff he had going on, but no way I was going to throw a wet blanket on his excitement. Not overly thrilled about his excitement to shoot guns, BB or other wise. And yes I was in the military for 22 years and was trained and qualified to use a gun, the M-16 automatic rifle to be exact. I’m glad I never had to pull the trigger other than when I was required to qualify.

If he develops a love of guns through this I guess I’ll just appreciate all the safety they’ll teach him first. Ultimately that’s not even the big deal. The bigger deal is he’s only in 1st grade so that means I have to go with him to den and pack meetings and of course the big enchilada – camping trips.

Again let me remind you, I was in the Air Force. I went to Central America for the drug wars of the 1990’s. For the final two of those years I had my own room. I had a TV, a fridge, a phone. I had maid service and I ain’t ashamed of it. If it wasn’t for the blazing heat I probably would have gained weight.

All that to say this, dirt sleeping in the “wild” ain’t my idea of a trip. Hot dogs on a whittled stick over a fire ain’t my idea of dinner. The only fire I want to see is the one lightly licking my rib eye steak, bringing it to a medium rare perfection. Are cub scouts even allowed to eat steak?

Still I’ve never seen the kid so excited about anything. He was even stoked about the uniform. Anytime we get him some nice clothes he takes one look and gives us the stink eye, “I don’t want to wear that.” Not with his cub scout uniform. He couldn’t wait to try that on.

Of course that explains this little piece of art work to the left.

I wasn’t sure what he was thinking here. When I realized his age group is referred to as Tigers in the Scouts it all started to make sense. Sort of.

Gonna need a little work to earn the face painting badge I think.