Adventures in Patching

Lauren isn't allowed to become a Girl Scout.

It's not because of the cookies.

Or the possibility I might have to camp outside with her in a tent.

It's because of the badges. The seemingly innocuous little patches of fabric that you adhere to the Girl Scouts' sashes.

I don't know much about them, but I don't need to. I already know I HATE them.

I spent three hours of my Saturday trying to affix a total of five patches to Alex's Cub Scout uniform.

I had conducted an informal Facebook poll to see how others did it without sewing. I was willing to sew a couple stitches, but there was no way in hell I'd sew an entire patch on that shirt.

I should have sewn the stupid patches. I ended up with a combination of worthless, supposedly adhesive substances on his shirt where the patches were SUPPOSED to go. I finally gave up and just sewed the corners of the patches onto the shirt. If I have some free time, maybe I'll add a couple more stitches. Yeah, it will be an empty day in Wegmans before that happens.

I don't know if iron-on patches actually work, but you'd think someone would TRY to make the patches easier to apply. The whole experience convinced me the Boy Scout organization is run by people who don't understand the concept of efficiency, despite what they try to teach the scouts.

I did some research on the Girl Scout patches, and apparently they are "iron-onable." I'm skeptical, though.

I know parenting is all about making sacrifices. I don't mind the sacrifices that make my kids happy. But Alex could NOT care less about those patches. He's in scouting for the socialization; he doesn't care about earning a patch for mastering how to "whittle" (yeah, that's a word I use everyday ...).

After this experience with the patches, I think I might prefer to go barefoot in a public bathroom.