When I was seven all I wanted was to be a Cub Scout. Though I suppose I enjoyed the activities and friends I’d made, I somehow resented being just a Beaver. When the day finally came to pass under the riverblanket to Akela for my cap, woggle and neckerchief, it was one of the happiest of my childhood and my first sense of achievement, though in hindsight I hadn’t done much more than be patient. The novelty of being a Cub however barely lasted a year; I soon gave it up with little more than two badges on my sleeve.
These are fun. More please!