If you can't go to the Cub Scouts, bring the Cub Scouts to you

For weeks, Max kept refusing to go into the church where the cub scout meetings are held. I emailed back and forth with the den leader, and we decided the boys would come to our house and bake cookies. Oatmeal cookies, he decided, and I held my tongue from saying "But don't you think double-chocolate-chip cookies would be even better, because they are my favorite?"

That night, Sabrina and I headed out; I wanted Max to spend time alone with the kids. The two of us hung at the library, where she showed me the gingerbread men she had made the other day with our babysitter—one for her, and one for Max. Then she inexplicably wanted to hit the olive bar at Whole Foods, so off we went.

Dave texted me a play-by-play account of what was happening at the house:

Boys arrived

Max upset and crying

He's upstairs in his room and he's calmed down

He wants to go downstairs

He's showing the boys his iPad

By the time we got home, the only trace remaining of the kids was a flour-y kitchen floor and a plate of oatmeal cookies. Max hadn't interacted that much with the boys, but it was a start—one of the first inclusive activities he'd ever participated in.

Of course, we can't host every meeting at our house. Now that Max has met the other cub scouts, though, he might be a little more amenable to going into the regular meetings.

It wasn't what I expected to happen, but it was still good.

I think that just about sums up our life.

Photo/temmatemma

Max attends his first Cub Scout meeting. Kinda sorta.

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?

Me: Kidding

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: Inside

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.