The Brownie Investiture

I would probably be worried about the Brownie thing, because Planned Parenthood has its hooks as deep into the Brownie thing as it does the Girl Scout thing. I would be worried if Anna weren’t so much like Melville’s Bartleby the Scrivener, who refused finally to play the game. Anna has been refusing to play the game for quite a while now.

What is she, six, seven? I’ve been watching her not playing the game for years. We used to trek up north to see her sing in a children’s church choir. But she, alone of all her compatriots, refused to sing. She’d just stand there, silent as a stone.

Then there was ballet. She just stood there, unwilling to participate.

And we have a picture my wife is trying valiantly to find of Anna standing obdurately in front of a soccer ball she is refusing to kick.

My wife, with grandmotherly pride, posted the picture up top of Anna joining the Brownies. Over my objections. Not a good message to send, I said. What with Planned Parenthood and all.

“Don’t be silly,” she told me. “Anna will quit in two weeks, tops. It’s all good.”

I’ll post the soccer pic unless my better half up and quits looking for it. But take it from me, it’s a hoot.