Thursday night, Dave and Max headed off to the cub scout meeting, held at a local church.
How's it going?, I texted Dave about 20 minutes later.
Dave: So far too scared to go inside
Me: Tell him they will be coloring with purple!
Dave: Will they?
Me: Prob not, but maybe it will coax him to go inside. I know, evil.
Dave: OK, will try
Dave: He's not having any, but will try another time
Me: Don't leave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave: Will try not to
Dave: OK, he is a bit interested now
Me: What is he doing?
Me: Maybe give him a shot of vodka?
Dave: Walking around
Dave: I need one
Me: Is he inside or outside?
Me: What are the cub scouts doing? Could the leader maybe come out and meet Max?
Dave: OK, going home
And that was that.
I wasn't disappointed, not at all. Because I knew there was a good chance Max would be intimidated, and because I've learned not to set my hopes high for things like this. I was excited Max hung around a little bit, testing the waters. I was psyched that he did not screech at the top of his lungs and run out of there like demons had possessed him, as he has done in similar situations. This is progress.
Turns out the cub scout leader had told us to come to the pack meeting, which had dozens of kids, instead of the regular den meeting (which is just going to be 8 to 10 kids). So we'll try the smaller, kinder get-together next week. Though it would not be appropriate to send Dave along with a flask of vodka.