I was an honorary cub scout around age 6, because A) my brother was an actual cub scout, B) our mom was troop leader, and C) we didn't have a babysitter. My only clear memory of that time was making salt dough pretzels with the boys, though, which tasted terrible. The pretzels, I mean. I didn't taste the WHOA THIS GOT DIRTY FAST.
Er, my point is, I don't remember cake at any of our troop meetings, but maybe that was for the best:
These are the extra tiny Cub Scouts. From the future.
Dangit, Michael, not again!
This month was the 107th birthday of the Boy Scouts, so naturally:
The only thing missing is U.
Or a bad Scottish accent. ("Ach! Me wee bairns!"*)
[*Sorry, that's from all the Star Trek books I read as a child. Scotty said it all the time, but I have no idea what it means. If it's something dirty, please accept my apologies/knowing looks & elbow jabs.]
And finally, bakers, why don't you give us the 411?
Or, sure, that works.
Thanks to Colleen R., Miranda E., Robert W., & Amy H. for always being prepared... with their phone cameras.