T.J. failed his first attempt at leading a campfire for Firecrafter rank. Last night was his last shot at passing it. I sat him down and told him how to do a campfire; our Ridge Commissioner gave him some pointers; I even bought some firewood while I was in town; and still, I had my doubts that he'd be able to pull it off. But he did. He passed his fire. He asked me to tell a story for it, and I did a rendition of Wilde's "The Selfish Giant."
Afterwards, we built the fire back up and popped a huge mess of popcorn. We sat around and told stories and riddles as the night fell. It was great. What was not great was the walloping big raccoon that in the wee hours decided to raid the cooler with the brownies and BBQ chips in it that somebody left out. He was a big'un; I would have chucked a rock at him from my tent, but I wasn't going to dispute possession of the shelter with him.
Tomorrow, I'll be singing this little ditty as we pack up to leave camp:
On the last day of Scout camp, my Scoutmaster told me,
Let's all go home!
Better get it done!
Go take a SHOWER! [wheeze]
What would Mama say?
Don't hang around!
Nights are for SLEEP!
And don't blow it all in one place!