Seriously?

My son is a Cub scout. I'm good with this...great with it, in fact. I love the camaraderie, I love the fun, I love the learning. He's having a blast.

His pack is (apparently) the only one in the country with an active Drum & Bugle Corps. They open each meeting and they participate in community events. But as older kids graduate to the point where Scouts aren't cool, the Corps needs new members.

Which leads us to the email I received from the Scoutmaster. There's a parade coming up, and he needed new Scouts. "Those who don't play an instrument can carry flags and serve as color guards," he said. And that sounded great--DS has seen the Scouts marching in parades for years and was absolutely over the moon at the prospect of donning his own uniform and thrilling the crowds.

Practice was last night. He suited up and we trucked over to the school cafeteria. The Scoutmaster's face lit up at the sight of fresh meat a new recruit. He started digging around in his massive bag and handed my boy a hunk of brass.

A bugle.

A real, live bugle. For us to keep. He's a bugler.

My eyes bugged out. Color guard, my ass. It was a ruse! A trap! And I went marching right into it! I feel like Lewis Black being presented with a bowl of candy corn in October. Son of a bitch!

Practice was something else. And today...today has been extraordinarily loud in my house. He's trying really hard and I am proud of him. But it sounds like the world's largest elephant, farting into Aerosmith's PA system. Over...and over...and over...

Here's hoping we make it to the parade. Right now, I'm not overly optimistic.