Someone to watch over him

He's a big guy now.

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He left this afternoon for another camp out, and I don't really know if he's safe. It's been pouring rain tonight, but I don't know if he is warm. I can't make him wear his jacket, or be sure that he's eaten. I don't know if the older guys are treating him mean, or if he's lonely...

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(or maybe just wiped out after a hike).

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I can't keep him clean...

(or keep him from playing with fire, or even sitting in the actual fire pit for that matter!)

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But thankfully there are a slew of good men up there watching over him. I have to trust they are taking care of him, or at least keeping him from catching himself on fire. It is a rite of passage, I guess, sleeping on rocks, eating charred hobo dinners and peeing in the embers.

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I know for sure he doesn't tell me all that goes on. I know this, not because my husband was in scouts (he hated camp outs for all the above mentioned miser-abilities). I know this because I have brothers who told me all the mayhem and horrors they committed whilst scouting that my mother never knew about.

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I think I don't want to know.

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But right now, I kinda wish he was here in his bed, safe and sound. It makes me project into the not-so-far-off future to a time when he won't be here every night. He might be tromping around in a foreign country as a missionary, or on a college campus, or, as he tells me often, in the service.

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Am I fast forwarding a little too fast?

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No.

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He is.

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Thanks to scout leader Eric for the pix, and for watching over my boy.