Yelling at Boy Scouts

Darling Man had to work all weekend, so ZBoy and I were left to our own devices. While DM was driving 3 hours to work a football game, Z and I went to a fitness/educational event being put on by my TV station.

The first thing we did was a geocache hunt. Basically, it's a treasure hunt, but instead of using clues, you use a GPS (pre-programmed) to find the "cache" which is an insulated box holding several "prizes". Pick one, then find the next box. When you find it, you can trade the prize you already have for something in the new box or keep it and find the next box. Very cool stuff!

The event was held on the grounds of an old plantation, with open pastures and live oak trees all around. Min - here's Spanish Moss just for you!

And of course, what is a station sponsored event without some poor slob dressed up in an incredibly hot character costume? At least it wasn't me this time! Do you know this character?

It's Super Wyatt from our new children's show, Super Why!

There were plenty of physical fun activities... Tug of War, Sack races...

I was thrilled to see that they had that thing with the parachute - you know the one where there's a ball in the middle and you "wave the parachute" to make it go up in the air and catch it and stuff. When we walked up to it, there were a few boy scouts and cub scouts doing it. And as we watched, one little boy ran underneath. The parachute was immediately dropped over him and the scouts grabbed the balls and started throwing them at the kid's head. Hard. I was in shock. "Hey!" I said - but no one heard me. So I walked over to the nearest offender, grabbed his arm and said in my most menacing mom-voice, "Just what do you think you're doing, young man?" They all froze. I asked where their leader was and was given a rather vague finger-pointed in his direction (quite a distance away). "We were just playing..." Sorry, boys. That doesn't fly with me. Throwing balls at someone's head when they can't even see you is not "playing". I then delivered just the kind of lecture, complete with finger shaking, that I always hated. You know... the "bad example" lecture. Then I took ZBoy's hand and we walked away between the equally stunned children and adults. I spotted them in a little knot later on and took their picture. They saw me do it and beat a hasty retreat.

Our final even was this rather bizarre egg race. By then I'd had enough and it was starting to get hot. So Z and I beat our own hasty retreat to our favorite little restaurant for a tall glass of chocolate milk.

Yum!