Cub Scouts and Danny Tanner

I, believe it or not, am a huge sap. While this big manly physique and tough as nails demeanor might lead you to believe otherwise, I am, in fact, a sucker for the emotional moments in life. While most of the time I avoid anything that may emit some sort of emotional response out of me, it is the exact opposite when it comes to such moments with my son. I live for the fatherly advice moments. I yearn for the I’ve-been-there-before-and-here’s-the-sage-advice-I-can-bestow-upon-you talks. In a nutshell, I love the Danny Tanner moments.

For anyone unfamiliar with Danny Tanner, he was the character played by Bob Saget on the television show Full House in the late 80’s to early 90’s. Danny was a single father of three girls who, after his wife’s death, asked both his brother-in-law and also his best friend to move in with him to help him take care of his family. Regardless of the kinda creepy premise, almost each and every episode’s plot was resolved at the end when Danny would have a sit-down meaningful conversation with the troubled party and they would work out their differences while both learning a lesson from their encounter.  Was it cheesy? Oh yeah. Did I watch the show regularly? For the purposes of establishing a basis for this story, I’ll say yes. Either way, the Danny Tanner moments were inspiring to me and, once I found out my wife was pregnant, I couldn’t wait to have them with my child.

Now, my son is six years old and, while he is extremely intelligent, I’m pretty sure the Danny Tanner moments I’ve had with him in the past have been forgotten or ignored up to this point. I’m not saying that he ignores me, but his ability to sit still for a meaningful heart to heart and his desire to listen to his old man ramble on and on about anything that doesn’t involve Skylanders, super heroes, or the crappy toy he just got from his fast food kiddie meal box just isn’t there. As a result, I’ve wasted great speeches on topics such as the importance of family, the ability to rise above, and the need to not pull your pants and underwear all the way down to your ankles while peeing in a public restroom.  

It’s okay. He’ll get there.

That being said, last night was a big night for him/me – his first Cub Scout meeting.  We had gone to an informational meeting about a month ago regarding Cub Scouts and had purchased the necessary shirt, belt, poorly-sewn-on-by-his-father-patches, and Cub Scout manual. Last night, however, was his first actual meeting and I thought it was a pretty big deal. Now I, myself, had gone through the Cub/Boy scouts in my youth and never really got that into it as I had some really annoying older scouts that acted like the boss of me (and NO ONE is the boss of me. Well, maybe my wife…). But I was really excited for him because it was something that we could do together. We could go on hikes together, we could go camping together, and I could make his Pinewood Derby car for him and let him add an early coat of spray paint to make him feel like he contributed (thanks Dad). It was really going to be awesome.

After I picked him up from his summer day camp, we went straight home and got him dressed in his three sizes too big Cub Scout uniform. After taking the shirt tails that hung down to his knees and tucking them into his shorts so that it wouldn’t seem TOO monstrously big (he’ll be a scout for years and should grow into it) I stood back to take a look at him.

Man.

Ben’s always been my little boy. He just turned six a few months ago and it amazes me how much he’s grown even since then. I know he’s just a kid and that any stranger that looks at him will still see a six year old, but to his mother and me he is just growing so fast.

Too fast.

Anyway, looking at my grown up little boy in his Cub Scout uniform, I was immediately inspired to have a spontaneous Danny Tanner moment with him. I asked him to come into the living room with me and sit down on the footstool while I knelt in front of him so that we could talk eye-to-eye. I told him that tonight was an important night because he was officially becoming a Cub Scout. I told him of all the great and useful things he would learn like fire building, public service, and general gentlemanly behavior. I told him that when I was his age I was a Cub Scout. I also told him that when I was a Cub Scout my dad had given me a Cub Scout pocket knife and that once I learned to use it properly I was allowed to carry it to meetings and other Cub Scout events.

At that moment, I reached into my pocket and retrieved that very same knife and showed it to him (okay, so this wasn’t entirely spontaneous – deal with it). His eyes widened as he asked me if that was the same knife and I responded with a yes. I opened up the blade and showed him how it stopped at a 90 degree angle and then opened the rest of the way. After checking it myself, I showed him how dull the blade was and told him that we could sharpen it together once we learned how to properly handle, use, and store the knife. I showed him the can opener and I also showed him the ice pick looking thingy that maybe was an ice pick or maybe it was something more handy and useful that I wasn’t familiar with. Whatever it was, I was in heaven as I had his total attention. My inner Danny Tanner was reveling in this moment as I was really connecting with him and he seemed to really understand the gravitas of the situation. I then told him that the knife was now his.

That is the moment where he looked me dead in the eye and said with all sincerity “I don’t want it.”

Excuse me?

Did he not understand what was occurring here? I was handing him what I was hoping would one day become a family heirloom. I was passing something given to me by my father on to him. We were having an emotional connection. I was Danny freaking Tanner. I WAS DANNY FREAKING TANNER!!!!

“It’s too sharp” he said as he handed it back to me. “I’m scared I might cut myself.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. Not the response I was necessarily looking for though. I simply told him that he didn’t need to be scared of it because I’d teach him exactly what to do with it and how to take care of it so that nobody got hurt. I also asked him if he’d like me to hold onto it until that time. With a look of obvious relief, he said yes.

From that point we left the house, got dinner, and went on to his first Pack meeting where he ceremoniously received his Tiger Cub neckerchief. He also was asked to be a part of the color guard that presented the flags at the beginning of the meeting. He was well behaved and he was reverent. I was disappointed that the knife presentation didn’t go better, but was proud of him nonetheless.

After the meeting, we went home to find my wife waiting to hear all about his first Cub Scout meeting. After convincing him that we did NOT want to hear about the paper thumb wrestlers he got in his kid’s meal from Wendy’s he began to tell her about what happened at Scouts. He seemed pretty into it and is looking forward to some of the upcoming events. At that point, mostly for my own benefit, I asked him if he wanted to tell Mommy about the knife. To my surprise he lit up, came over and got it from me as I still had it in my pocket, and took it over to Carol. My wife, being the great mom that she is, put on her amazed face and asked him to tell her all about it.

“It’s a Cub Scout knife. It was Dad’s when he was a little boy.”

That’s all I needed to hear.

He had listened and he got it.

I was Danny Tanner.

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