Last night First Born joined the Brownies. This entails making "The Brownie Promise" in front of her peers and her doting parents. Oh, and The Boyfriend.
The whole ritual took around 5 minutes in which First Born made all kinds of statements that were patently untrue ("I will do a good deed every day"... uh huh...) The most surreal rite was one where she had to promise a demonic one-eyed wooden owl that she would uphold the Brownie Law. It was all positively Masonic (I was waiting to see if there is a special Brownie handshake, but I guess that element of the ceremony is hidden from those of us not in The Craft.)
I also expect that a special circle of hell has been reserved for the adult leaders of these groups of little girls. Such relentless cheerfulness should not go unrewarded. And anyone who can sing a song about the clothing choices of their Aunt Emily that includes the line "Swinging Her Muff" replete with actions and still keep a straight face can't be completely human.
We were also pressganged into helping two of the Brownies achieve their "hostess" badges. I'm not going to go into the sexual politics of why little girls should strive for a badge to prove that they can serve tea, coffee and cakes while little boys get to do things involving machinery and stuff that goes bang, but the whole cuteness of it was faintly nauseating. I also threw them by asking for a glass of water (they stuck manfully to their script: "Would you like milk or sugar?" as they presented me with a glass of clear tepid fluid and a sponge cake that lived up to the word "sponge" by sucking the moisture out of my mouth like some sort of Star Trek special effect.)
Yes, I am a little negative about the whole thing. There's something faintly disturbing about getting a bunch of little children to pledge allegiance to God and The Queen when they don't really understand either concept. That said, First Born did look a little dubious when asked to sing the Brownie Anthem, which involved waving one's finger around and singing about not hiding one's candle under a bush. She whispered to me conspiratorially: "I think the finger is supposed to be a metaphor for a candle. I don't know why we can't use real candles."
"Metaphor". Tch. She's been sneaking a look at the dictionary again.
