OurDad's Biking Clinic or Skidmarks for Boy Scouts

OurDad a has out done himself this time--he nearly got us kicked out of the BSA.

My Boy Scout Troop is planning a cycling trip up the west coast of Michigan. It'll be a great trip-- too bad we won't have time to go. Anyway, they know OurDad's like Mr. Mountain biker so they asked him to put on a biking clinic. It was great-- at first.

All the guys brought their bikes up to the school where we meet, and OurDad fixed practically all of them. Then he had to take it a bit further and talk about equipment. He brought this old helmet to show everyone how a helmet really can prevent head injuries. His is covered with cracks and scratches from landing on his head after bike wrecks, and he's "no worse for the wear." I for one am not too convinced. He talked about nutrition and hydration, and showed everyone his Camelbak. And then he brought out the bike shorts-- the girly racer boy kind that look like they'd fit the GirlChild. Oh, I can't tell you how bad that was, but it got worse, he showed everyone the chamois. That's that padding in the bike shorts for your butt, but no one was listening at this point because they were all to grossed-out by the skidmarks! But then it got even worse-- he explained that everyone has skidmarks in their bike shorts because you're not supposed to wear underwear under your bike shorts.

We were informed that in the BSA the boys and the adults are to wear underwear at all times.

I don't think we'll be invited on any more cycling outings with the scouts.

Perhaps OurDad was thinking if we got kicked out of the Boy Scouts it would make leaving Michigan easier. Wrong!

It works for removing paint too -- OurDads Mother's Day

Maybe OurDad has got this WWTSD thing down. That's, What Would Tom Sawyer Do?

Yesterday was Mother's Day and all great Mom wanted was to see us work. Ok it was her special day, and it was only one day.

She wanted me to finish my Picasso reproduction, which was late. In fact, OurDad said if I didn't finish it I'd be placed in a third grade art class when I started fourth grade at my new school in St. Louis. She wanted the BoyChild to clean his room-- no small feat considering the four thousand Lego pieces he uses for carpet. And all she wanted OurDad to do was power wash the deck. She swore, no chocolates or flowers. I made a card for her at school, and I let the BoyChild and OurDad glom on to it. Hey at least they did the work GreatMom wanted-- sort of.

First of all I want to state that I did finish my Picasso, and that he was crazy, just crazy. Look at this. Very inappropriate. The BoyChild he cleaned more than half his room, which was actually more than expected. So basically we did our part for Mother's Day. And that deck is totally cleaned and ready for a new coat of stain, but OurDad didn't do all the work.

GreatMom had borrowed a huge gas-powered power washer so OurDad could help get the house ready to sell. It just blasts the stain right off the deck with a jet of water like some military issue squirt gun. It looked really cool, and OurDad made using it look like so much fun GreatMom had to try it, and he let her finish off the deck.

It was Mother's Day and OurDad had her outside power washing the deck. Tom Sawyer's got nothing on OurDad!

WWTSD

What Would Tom Sawyer Do? Well it sure wouldn't be asking OurDad to fix the school teacher.

It's no sooner after OurDad decides to move us all to Missouri, or Missoura, than he's cramming Mark Twain down our throats. What's next: biographies of Harry Truman or the memoirs of Laura Engles?

Anyway, with just a few weeks of school left you'd think he realize I can sweat it out, but noooo, he's got to try and make it easier for me just because he's feeling guilty about becoming our personal Harry Truman by dropping the big one on our family. He's gone and complained about my ultra hard teacher, Dr. Barbarian, to the principal. This is only going to make school worse, if that's possible.

It's not like Dr. B. suddenly started throwing around C's and D's to kids, including me, in the Woundtight School district's Magnet program. It's all stick and no carrot from that lady, at least my other teachers are really cool. What a reward for doing more than our peers around the district. Did I mention that my report card, which would be straight A's at any other school in the district says nothing about Magnet or Advanced, so when I move to Missouri I guess I'll be placed in the remedial courses with kids that say Missoura.

OurDad to the rescue. Yesterday he spent an hour and a half busting the principals balls just for me. Please with all this Mark Twain stuff he's talking up, you'd think OurDad would have come up with something a little more clever and anonymous. Now I gotta watch my back because Dr. Barbarian is gonna be gunning for me.

Any ideas? What would Tom Sawyer Do? Please note hooky too obvious to be an option.

OurDad actually got a Job-- a real Job!

In St. Louis! We're moving.

He actually called our bluff. We never expected he'd actually get a job. You may have seen my comments on his work habits entitled They Pay him for this?

Somehow, someway, he's convinced Unnamed U that his minimalist teaching philosophy is the new thing in education-- let the students do the work. Whoever heard of such a thing-- students working?! The teacher is supposed to teach the students. He thinks they should teach themselves.

I think I know why he wants to be a "college" teacher... But did he ask us? Noooooo. He just did it all on his own.

St. Louis? I should have known. He could never give up that Cardinals hat and cheer for the Lions, Tigers, Pistons or Wings.

St. Louis? Do you know how hot it gets in St. Louis? He goes on and on about global warming and he wants to move south? I just don't understand OurDad.

St. Louis? I'm not sure they even have the internet there.

St. Louis? Has OurDad thought this out? No. Do we know where we're going to live? No. Do we know where we are going to school? No. Does GreatMom have a job there? No. Are we going to be able to sell our Michigan home before he starts work in the Fall? Not in this market. Can we afford two mortgages? No. Is there a scout troop? Is there a skating rink? Are there soccer teams? Are there kids that like Legos? Will we rent? House or apartment? Will we live with grandma and grandpa, and if so which ones? But OurDad has a job.

I'm expecting to see a Mission Accomplished banner on the house any day now.

Why didn't the Old CC hire him before this disaster?