The Advent-ures of Wump the Scout

Here in Finland, we don’t have that wonderful gender-division argument between Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts, although I’m sure we have it in other areas. Here, we just have “Scouts”, or Partio, and both girls and boys can join.

Wump has been on board for a few weeks now, and her group has just started its first fundraising thing for an up-coming trip – they’re selling advent calendars at €7 a pop. Hit me up if you’re interested, she gets a goddamn prize if she sells a certain number and I can’t afford to buy the entire stockpile myself.

Anyway, she was very enthusiastic. Yesterday, after work but before dinner (a usually very narrow window), she declared that we were going to go door to door selling calendars. Wump on her bike and me on foot, carrying calendars and tracking sheet and money. Oh, and also carrying Toop, who (as usual) dissolved in tears at the thought of being left behind while Wump went on an adventure with Pappa, and then dissolved into tearfully grateful laughter when I said she could come with us.

It was already getting dark, and there were scattered flurries of sleet going on, when we headed off. We went to the neighbours, then across the village to some relatives and other friends. All told, we sold nine calendars and we’re going to need another pile because we still have orders stacking up. By the end of it, Toop was too tired even for me to carry her, but since there was little alternative that’s what we did.

Anyway, a very enjoyable evening it was.

Today, I’m going on a little adventure of my own to take public transport to Mrs. Hatboy’s workplace, in order to get Wump and her buddy Aaron (every Hindle needs a buddy Aaron) to circus school on time.

I’m filled with confidence and moose burgers. The latter of which I had for lunch just now.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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3 Responses to The Advent-ures of Wump the Scout

  1. aaronthepatriot says:

    Toop. Aww.

    Buddy Aaron. Aww.

    But you know, Finland really needs to try out this whole gender-segregated Scouts thing. It’s great. I mean, what if your kids play doctor together? Won’t you PLEASE think of the children?

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