I was pretty lucky to get to spend at Cub Country with Curtis. Though it's been almost 30 years since I was last there, it was just like I remember it.
First stop: The Trading Post. Thanks to the $10 Grandpa gave him, he was able to score a sweet rubber band shooter and a bear tooth necklace.
Then on to the obstacle course. Curtis was on his way to the record-setting time when the tires got the best of him. He was the first kid in the troop to scrape a knee; by the time we left, just about every boy was covered in band aids.
The boys listened intently as the squeaky-voiced teen showed them how to shoot the BB guns. (I was mesmerized by his super-sweet teenage mustache.)
Finally, the moment came that he Curtis had been waiting for. He became a marksman.
All that shooting makes boys hungry.
Curt was kind enough to pause for a photo with his biggest fan.
And then it was back to business.
Like roping fake calves.
And learning how to fold the flag.
God bless Cub Country.
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