If preteen girls ever have fun. I mean pure unadulterated, unfiltered fun. Fun not revolving around pretenses, fun not involved with boys and their social status. Just pure innocent fun. It seems like there are more days filled with angst and snottyness. Twelve is a tough age, caught between being a teenager and being a little kid. Twelve means you yearn for independence and you’ll fight tooth and nail for it. Twelve means you want to desperately fit in and be liked. Twelve means that you are constantly looking over your shoulder and gauging your reactions to the crowd.
My girl scout troop is very fortunate. I don’t think they realize how lucky they are. The girls all come from different schools. For the most part, out of girl scouts, they don’t see each other during the week. There is an occasional sleep over or invitation to hang out, but for the most part they don’t see each other. They know that they can trust each other. Maybe this is just because they all could reveal equally embarrassing moments about each other. This allows these girls to feel really comfortable being themselves. They can be silly, obnoxious, honest, and forth coming without having to worry about what someone might think.
On their own they can decide to see how many kids can fit inside a hula hoop.
and then they’ll do it all over again, and again, and again.
