I'll show you a hitch

When my fifth child was born, an event from the dim and distant past, my first two children, both boys, were in the process of earning their Eagle Scout awards. So when I was introduced to my fifth child, a third boy, did I think of blue buntings, bicycles and basketballs?

No. All I could think was, “In eight short years this person is going to grow up to be a cub scout.”

Don’t misunderstand me. Scouting is great, at least in theory. It turns boys into men and all that. It also turns mothers into maniacs. If it weren’t so wonderful, it couldn’t inspire so much anxiety and guilt in mothers who are anxiously waiting for their sons to grow into men. They just hope they live to see the men.

The years between Bobcat and Eagle are interminable. The words “merit badge” are able to strike sheer terror into the hearts of otherwise fearless matriarchs. You say “pack meeting” and a mother panics. “When was it—when is it—did we miss that again?”

Just so you know, a fourteen-year-old boy is inert. He has no engine, gears or starter. He eats, sleeps and sits and that makes him tired. So it is up to his mother to figure out how to make him want to take five-mile hikes, tie knots, cook his own food or call a merit badge counselor.

The only rank a boy scout ever brought home on his own came with his socks after a week at scout camp, and I’ll bet he couldn’t get home with any of his gear without the help of his scout master.

I personally know a scout who came home without his sleeping bag. I also know one who came home with all his clothes and they were clean! He left his change of clothes in his backpack all week and came home in the clothes he went in. At least he didn’t lose them.

Well, I learned a few things with my first scout who finally got his Eagle at the age of 18. Before that, all I could think to do to motivate him was to get involved. Somewhere between his registration and graduation, I learned how to tie every knot, build a fire without matches, pitch a tent, and find merit badge books in the library.

So with my second son, I was not only prepared, I was a lot smarter. He got his Eagle by age 15. There are quite a few friendly, courteous, and kind mothers out there and they passed on their secrets. (I don’t know where they were when I was a tenderfoot. But all of those secrets come under the umbrella of threats, bribery or blackmail, and resorting to any one of those categories is more practical that becoming a scout yourself.

The most effective motivational tool is used like thin: “You don’t get your driver’s license until you get your Eagle.” Very simple.
I guess that is blackmail, but there is ­­some wisdom in using it. Since 14-year-old boys are inert, and 16-year-old boys would rather drive and chase girls than run the Snake River, let alone do a conservation project, you are justified in using strong-arm tactics.

You have to get tough while they are still sitting on the couch being tired. At least they are around. If they are too tired to be concerned about driving when they turn sixteen, you can use a gentler method like bribery during the interim: “I will feed you after you pass off home repairs.”

As I said, I was presented with a third boy. By the time he turned eight, neither of us could remember when they held den meeting let alone where they kept the merit badge books. I didn’t want to start over again, even armed with threats, bribery and blackmail