Tag Archives: Girl Scouts

PLEASE FIRE ME.

Did you get your Thin Mints this year?

If not, then you are the only person within a 100-mile radius of me who didn’t get a box.  Or twelve.  Yes, folks, we have passed that time of year, that more-American-than-Thanksgiving extended holiday known as GIRL SCOUT COOKIE SALES.

Some of you probably read that and experienced a personal moment, the memory of peanut butter Do-si-Dos exploding on your taste buds as if you were biting into the real thing.  Good for you.  Me, I wrote that sentence and heard the Shark’s Theme from Jaw’s.

If you got your Thin Mints, there is one thing I know for sure:  You didn’t get them from me.   With our collective troop sales rocketing into the four digits, my precious child, aided and abetted by yours truly, sold a whopping four boxes.  Why?

BECAUSE I SUCK AT BEING A GIRL SCOUT MOM. In the 99-year history of our venerable organization, I am, I am quite certain, one of the worst Brownie moms the scouts have ever suffered.  The blustery (read: hurricane-like) day we sallied forth to sugar-coat our city drove the point home.

My daughter and I arrive at our assigned post–outside a local market near dinnertime– to take over from a harried-looking mother and four soaked scoutlets who have already sold out of Thin Mints, Tag-Alongs and Samoas.  “More are coming!” she says as she thrusts the crammed money-box into my hands.  Her gaze shifts to my daughter.  “Where’s her sash?”

I look at the other girls, decked out despite the impending flood in their Brownie regalia, patches marching proudly across their uniforms.    Crap. Totally forgot about the sash.  (Full disclosure:  Totally lost the sash.  Not a clue where it could be. )

“Um, she gets cold so easily.  She’ll probably keep her coat on.”  I glance at my daughter, who is in the process of flinging said coat to the sidewalk so she can play in the rain properly with her friends.

Harried mother ushers her girls home for dinner as we prepare to take over.  Almost immediately people line up for their annual Girl Scout Cookie fix.   “How much is a box?” asks the first woman in line. Continue reading

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