smooth like plain butter.

Instead of Girl Scouts, when I was growing up I participated in Indian Princesses*.

 It was a very similar concept but with dads and daughters. Each dad and daughter pair gave each other names: I was Sleeping Deer and Dad was Bald Eagle. The tribe, Wichita, got  together to do arts & crafts although I eventually had to have a surrogate dad because mine was banned from using a hot glue gun after burning himself and me too many times. Craft time pre-surrogate dad was a dangerous proposition.

 Every few months we went on a weekend camping trip. Our tribe, Wichita, developed a reputation on those trips. While everyone else went to every activity dutifully on schedule, we tended to skip about 80% of the activities and instead go on random wanders with our trusty Nerf football. That football went all over Texas with us. When we weren't tossing a Nerf football on hikes, we were inventing our own games. One of our most fun games was the time we put all of the kids in a big tube which the dads then rolled down a hill. As we gained speed, the kids on the end would shoot out the sides while the kids in the middle tumbled around like clothes in a dryer. 

For whatever reason, we loved it and insisted we go again. We even worked out a rotation system so that the same people weren't always on the ends.

In retrospect, it's a miracle no one got seriously injured. 

It was, in all fairness, about par for the course for Wichita. 

Our tribe was generally the same people from year to year. 

One year we got a new dad and daughter duo.

We tried to befriend the new girl. We really did. And initially it went well. Sure she was a little odd but we included her quickly in our nonsense.

But then something happened.

We were eating dinner in the mess hall on a camping trip. Dinner came with rolls which came with individually wrapped pats of butter.

She didn't touch her rolls. Instead, this girl unwrapped the butter and just ate it. Plain. Didn't put it on anything. She just ate it.

We all stopped eating and just stared. No one knew what to do or how to react. None of us had ever seen someone eat butter plain. Even though this was Texas and butter was a staple in most meals, this was new. This was a place butter obsessions did not go to.

Someone asked her what she was doing. She simply said "eating".

After lunch we immediately told the dads about the butter incident. We tried to keep including her but it just got awkward after that. Fourth graders aren't known for being the nicest or most understanding.

They didn't come back after that.

To this day, I can't look at one of those pats of butter without thinking of her.

*I am aware of the cultural appropriation involved in this and I don't condone it. Thankfully, the YMCA who organized the whole program has since removed the Native American aspects of the program. 

**Sadly I do not have any photos currently available of my time as Sleeping Deer so I went with a stock photo from here

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