Marotta:

Jump Up & Go Day for the Girl Scouts

You want to have fun, find a way to spend the day with a couple of dozen six-year-olds at Girl Scout Camp. I did this last month when I volunteered to be co-counselor to a small gang of Brownies on Jump Up and Go Day, celebrating healthful habits of every kind.

Our first activity involved learning about both the importance of washing the hands and eating healthy snacks. The snacks the children themselves prepared, using little plastic knives to saw a mountain of fruits into juicy rags. Then they set to work making a craft decorated with hand-drawn illustrations of a) five healthful foods, b) two "electronics" they would try to use less of during the week, and c) any activity at all that got them running around some.

Then we had a Scavenger Hunt too and threaded our way back down the hill.

"I’m starving!" cried one little Brownie. "Nuh-uh!" the Brownie behind her broke in. "You’re not starving ‘til it’s been three days! My daddy says!"

The famished one rolled her eyes. It seemed like a good time for a subject-change.

"We’ve got some great names here," I joyously yodeled. "A Madison and an Aja and a Gabi. And you, Montana, named for a beautiful state."

Sickened by my ignorance, Montana scowled in disbelief. "I’m named for the football player," she said flatly.

"And Kendall, what are you named for?" I asked the first-grader beside me.

"Nothing," she said. "Some people call me Candle. ‘Candle, Candle,’ they go. I yell, ‘I AM NOT AN INANIMATE OBJECT!’"

We had a lovely brown-bag lunch, with entertainment by our tiniest Brownie, who went from group to group sharing family lore. ("Want to hear a story? When I was a little baby my daddy held my up in the air, and I THREW UP IN HIS MOUTH!" "Want to hear a story? When I was a little baby …. ")

But every day has dramatic tension and ours came just after lunch and before Soccer, when, in a little hall, a beautiful and kind young woman tried teaching the kids to waltz.

She arranged them in a long line so they could see her and began: "First, step back with your right foot and make an L with your left, kind of sw-e-e-e-ping it over next to the right foot without actually touching it to the floor."

Well, they tried. For a good 20 minutes they did try, some looking at their feet, some holding hands for support, some clinging to each other like drowning victims. But when they were told to couple up, so half of them could do the same thing only backwards, discipline broke down entirely. They braided each other’s hair or began games of patty-cake, or went to sit down on some steps at one end of the room.

"Awesome job, ladies!" proclaimed the teacher, sagely cutting her losses.

We played some circle games to fill the time, then made our way to the soccer field, where three-quarters of the girls began kicking soccer balls and running madly.

Me, I sat on the sidelines, thinking to write up the day. But "Is that a Sharpie? Can I write my name?" asked one Brownie, dropping into the sweet-smelling grass beside me.

Then several other Brownies soon came and asked to do the same.

I could have said more here if only I’d been left alone to get more recorded.

Instead, picture these names, set down proudly in the earnest tongue-peeking-out hand of the six-year-old: Shakila and Sarah. Andrea and Iris. Alyssa and Emily.

Picture these tiny Girl Scouts and then send them your blessing. I know I will, as the years themselves jump up and go and make of them young women.

Write Terry at tmarotta@comcast.net