I've been imagining lately . . . what would happen to the scouting program if mothers were in charge? Why am I wondering about that? Well take the other night for example.
About 10:30 I was brushing my teeth in my pajamas.
Someone came into the bathroom behind me and said, "I just got the worst wound award at Scouts tonight."
Not exactly what you want to hear right before you crawl in bed. I took one look at my son's deep leg wound along with cuts and scratches all over his legs and arms and knew I had to get him medical help. My husband was still gone doing church stuff and my teenage daughter had all her friends over playing night games - running all over the yard and in and out of our bathroom. Just as John and I were getting in the van, Ross pulled up and came along for the ride.
John had to get fifteen stitches but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was getting twenty-seven little shots to deaden the area all around the wound so they could do the stitches. We finally left the emergency room rubbing our eyes way after midnight.
It took a while to get the whole story out of my son but it went something like this . . . John went end over end on his bike on a mountain trail and crashed into a tree. His scout leaders didn't think it was anything to worry about and told him to get back on the bike and go faster. So he did and biffed it again. Then after fifteen miles of more of the same they all sat around the camp fire and roasted hot-dogs and marsh-mellows for another hour.
Finally they dropped John off at my house covered in dirt and blood then sped off.
Now . . . if mothers were in charge . . .