Now to most of you, this isn’t earth-shattering news. In fact, I
bet some of you are sitting right now there thinking,
”
So what?
”
Now to most of you, this isn’t earth-shattering news. In fact, I bet some of you are sitting right now there thinking, “So what?” However, if you have a daughter in the scouting program you know EXACTLY what those five little words mean. They mean that from now until mid-spring the main purpose of your entire life will be selling boxes and boxes of chocolate mints and caramel creams.
Not that there’s anything wrong with this. After all, the proceeds go to a worthwhile cause. We all know that scouting teaches kids valuable life skills, and it raises their self-esteem and gives back to the community and all that.
However, the problem, you see, isn’t about the selling of the cookies or the proceeds. It’s about the prizes. Let me explain.
In a perfect world, everyone would sell exactly the same amount of boxes, earn a cheery red ribbon, throw up their hands and call it a success. But this, as most of you know, is not a perfect world.
In fact this year my daughter wants a very specific prize: a charm bracelet. And not just any charm bracelet, mind you, I’m talking about the very same one you can buy at the mall for, say, $6.99 but now can earn for free by selling approximately 150 bazillion boxes of cookies. Give or take a few.
Now at first glance this might not seem so bad. You might even think that this is a good opportunity to teach kids a valuable life lesson about how they should “work hard for what they want,” and how persistence pays off and all that. Ha! Ha! I say. Everyone knows this idea never works. Mainly because selling cookies brings up all sorts of other issues. Like, for instance, how good you are at handling pressure. And, believe me, there will be a lot of it.
Oh sure, selling the first 20 or so boxes will be easy. In fact, they will practically fly out the door. But don’t let this fool you. Trust me, by box 37 your luck will change and all sales will come to a screeching halt. By then you’ll be out of relatives, and friends and people who owe you favors – and have nothing left to rely on, except your wits.
This, my friends, is when Cookie Sale Panic sets in.
You know when it happens because suddenly you’ve forgotten all about things like your job and personal hygiene because you’re too busy thinking about ways to sell more boxes of cookies. You lay awake at night thinking up intricate thin mint pyramid schemes and sure-fire ways to sell peanut butter cremes out of your trunk in grocery store parking lots without getting caught.
Soon after that you use bribery and begging. And it goes downhill from there until one day you find yourself, a rational adult, telling a 7-year-old,
“Hey, get off my street. You can’t fool me with your freshly pressed uniform and tawdry boxes of Coconut Carmel Dreams. Go sell in your own neighborhood. This is MY turf! Do you hear me? MINE!”
Not that I’ve actually done this. Um, of course not.
Of course, some parents handle Cookie Sales better than others do. Take my friend, Janet. Each year her daughter sells over 300 boxes of cookies and she barely even breaks into a sweat.
And then there’s my friend Jenny who just bypasses the whole cookie selling issue altogether and buys all 100 boxes and stuffs them in her freezer.
But getting back to our plight.
By now some of you might be wondering where my daughter is during all this? Well, the freaky thing is, every year during this time she disappears into her bedroom, only to reemerge when the cookie sales are over and it’s time to claim the prize.
OK, before you start yelling, of course I know that children should sell their own cookies and earn their own rewards and all that. But, so far, this politically correct philosophy hasn’t been able to stop me.
So, what drives me to do it year after year? Some may attribute it to fond childhood memories, or the change to work together towards a common goal or to be a good role model for my daughter and all that.
And all those reasons are fine, really. But, truth be told, I’m in it for the challenge. In fact, as of this morning, I only have 283 more boxes to go until I qualify for a stuffed turtle puppet.
That’s 37 less than my friend Barb.
Thin mints, anybody?
