Why Dads Run Boy Scouts

Moms do Cub Scouts.

I'm not sure how that got started--maybe with after school pack meetings when most Dads are at work?

I do know that by the time Max was done with Cubs, I was done, too. As soon as Max and I returned from the Scout Store with his crisp, new khaki uniform shirt and Boy Scout manual, I told Brett that I resigned. If Max was going to do Boy Scouts, the ball was now in Brett's court.

I must not be the only one that feels that way. Last month Brett and Max went on the Eleven Year-old Scout snow camp out.

Yes. Camping. In February. With snow. Outside.

This is how I know I am not alone in ditching scouting responsibilities once the Arrow of Light emblem was pinned to my collar.

If Moms were in charge of Boy Scouts, snow caves ((shudder)) would not happen:

'Is that really SAFE?' worries Mom

Neither would this:

'That's your tent?!"

or this:


And this would CERTAINLY never happen:


The differing gender reaction to a boy climbing on the heavily snow laden roof of a (hopefully sturdy) pavilion:

Mom (screeching): "Get down here this instant!"

Dad: "Cool! Get the rest of the boys up there and let's take a picture. Five bucks if you can hit that big drift when you jump off."


Moms don't allow tossing snow on your buddies, intentional or accidental, with a snow shovel:


Moms also wouldn't let you gorge on Hostess fruit pies, teriyaki beef sticks, unlimited half-frozen sodas and so many Doritos that your hands are permanently stained orange.

And most assuredly, Moms have limited tolerance for the humor of eleven year-old boys.

Moms want to make their sons wear their snow pants before the car door is even opened instead of displaying the amused patience necessary to let the boys learn for themselves the natural consequences of wet jeans in sub-zero temperatures.

If Moms ran Scouts, this snow forged camaraderie would never happen:


Or this Father/Son bonding and its resulting tutelage by example in how to be a man who holds the Priesthood with honor:


And wouldn't that be a terrible, terrible shame.

Aren't you glad Dads run Boy Scouts?