Category Archives: The Squat Club

The Squat Club Sentenced

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The principal received them with an air of sobriety. While she may have been mildly amused by the signature act of The Squat Club, she saw the seriousness behind the mischief. This was the last type of publicity she wanted for her school, and the quicker she could dissolve the Full Moons Over Recess Gang, the better for all those involved.

“It’s not that we consider the girls to be shameful,” she said in a tone that contradicted the statement, “it’s just that we don’t want to see this situation get blown out of proportion or placed in the wrong hands. We have to think about the girls’ future academic careers.”

“Excuse me,” Kaitlin said, “but what do you mean their ‘future careers’?  They tinkled behind a couple of bushes.”

“Well, technically, yes, but it’s more involved than that. We just don’t want this to follow them during their time at St. Timothy’s.”

“I see,” said Kaitlin, trying to rein in a smile.

“Can you tell us what you know?” Donald said, trying to get to the bottom of things, so they could get the hell out of there.  He needed to get back to work, for Pete’s sake.  He couldn’t believe he was wasting personal leave time on a pissing contest.

“Yes,” the principal said, delighted that someone was in a serious frame of mind. “Ellie has been a part of The Squat Club since its inception. She and another girl established the group back in late spring, according to my notes, but summer suspended the sessions which resumed in August.  They have gained followers since, and total membership numbers around half a dozen girls.”

Kaitlin frowned. So Ellie was not just a member, she was the co-founder. That’s lie number one.  “Who are the other members?”

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information, some of the parents are quite stricken about this, but I’m sure Ellie will tell you.”

Unfortunately, Kaitlin wasn’t sure about that at all. “Can you tell me how you knew Ellie was involved?”

“Yes, that is pertinent information for you.  Ellie was caught with two other girls in the act. As the letter stated, one girl is the closer while the other two keep lookout.”

“And Ellie was a guard?”

The principal looked at her over bifocals. “No . . . Ellie was the one carrying out the club’s duties for that shift.”

Kaitlin heard Donald swear quietly under his breath. That was lie number two from their little princess.  She watched the principal shuffle papers until she came to the one she sought.

“Here it is.  Miss Fletcher came upon the girls from the south, and she overheard one of the guards yell, ‘Suck it up; suck it up!  Somebody’s coming!’ It was then that Miss Fletcher found Ellie in a compromising position.”

Kaitlin had heard enough, and Donald was about two seconds from imploding. They thanked the principal, promised to have a serious heart-to-heart with their daughter, and left.

As they climbed into their minivan, Kaitlin said, “I wasn’t angry until I heard about the lying. That kid looked us straight in the face and lied.  Those giant, green eyes never even looked away.”

“Yep,” said Donald, “and this is the crap she’s pulling now, at age seven.” He shook his head. “God help us.”

“I told you we shouldn’t have skipped church last night.”

So needless to say, Ellie found herself the center of serious attention.  And for those of you with elementary school daughters, who bear the faces of cherubs and the voices of fairies, ask yourself this question: It’s 10 o’clock in the morning; do you know what your second grader is up to? Or squatting down to do?

The witching hour

The witching hour

© 2013 – Traci Carver

The Squat Club on Trial

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The optimal Squat Club tree has low hanging branches

The optimal Squat Club tree has low hanging branches

“You know she gets this from your side of the family,” Donald said after reading the letter. “Half your family members are part monkey and would have no problem with peeing on the ground.”

“I don’t know why you’re getting so high and mighty. If you’d grown up in the country, you’d know that practically every kid who lives in the woods has gone to the bathroom outside at one time or another.”

“Maybe, but there’s a big difference between camping and forming a club whose sole purpose is to piss behind bushes. She’s a little girl, Kaitlin, and she needs to act like one.”

“I agree this isn’t her finest moment, but it’s not as if the teacher caught them doing a line of cocaine under the magnolia tree. Let’s go talk to her and hear what she has to say.”

“Fine, but just know that she’s going to understand that she has to keep her panties on in public.” And that was a statement that he’d never dreamed of making until her teenage years.

Talking to Ellie turned out to be more challenging than Kaitlin thought. Once Ellie understood the allegation and that her report card mark was only the first in a long line of consequences, she began to circle the wagons.

“I may have been a member of the club, Mommy, but I didn’t ever pee outside.”

“Really? I thought you had to in order to join.”

Ellie shrugged. “I was just always a guard.”

“I see. So tomorrow when your dad and I go to talk with the principal, that’s what she’s going to tell me.”

Ellie squirmed a bit to the left. “Well, maybe I just peed one time. To join. But I didn’t do it after that, and it wasn’t me that Miss Fletcher caught on Tuesday. I was just a guard.”

“So you only did this once, and not on Tuesday. When I speak to the principal tomorrow, this is what she’s going to tell me.”

“Well, maybe . . .”

The longer the interrogation lasted, the fuzzier the answers became. Ellie was unsure about a great deal. She was only a recent convert, only superficially involved, and only an alternate on the urination rotation roster. She had no real insight into the devious workings of this organization, nor was she aware of the activities of the higher-ups. She was a member of a cult, it seemed, an innocent victim of brainwashing by a group of female radicals taking feminism to a new level. Gone were the days when only little boys could whip it out and relieve themselves without the aid of a toilet. Or hand soap. No ma’am. These girls had proven that those of us bearing XX chromosomes are just as adept at outdoor voiding as those with exterior equipment. This was the new bra burning of 2013.

No longer will females be subjugated by facility signs

No longer will females be subjugated by facility signs

As Kaitlin and Donald prepared themselves for the upcoming conference, they realized they had no idea what to expect. When your kid is caught up in such a passionate political movement, who knows what crimes she may have committed for the sake of the cause?

© 2013 – Traci Carver

The Squat Club Exposed

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Kaitlin perused the report card and saw the ominous N – Needs Improvement – for behavior. All other categories were satisfactory or better, so the issue revolved around something Ellie had done. Snatching crayons? Cutting one of Sylvia’s ridiculously long pigtails with left-handed scissors? Eating glue?  Kaitlin peeled the crossword puzzle of S’s and that one damaging N away from the foldout and found a two page letter attached. This letter explained the demise of Ellie’s character through the creation of The Squat Club.

Every parent's nightmare: Needs Some Explanation

Every parent’s nightmare: Needs Some Explanation

Apparently, The Squat Club was an underground fellowship dedicated to flouting authority and asserting seven year old female independence through the venue of urinating behind certain trees at designated times. Members of this elite society had to participate in this ritual on a regular basis while two other Sisters in Squatting stood guard to protect defenseless buttocks from unscrupulous male eyes and from the discovery of Big Sister.  Thanks to a school located in a rural area and a playground surrounded by woods, these renegades had been wreaking havoc on foliage for almost two months. Not to mention the chaos they had caused in the bookkeeping department as the staff pulled tuffs of hair from their scalps and tried to account for the drastic decline in toilet paper usage. It might take months to get the rolls of Angel Soft back on track.

Oh, the horrors of unreconciled bathroom supplies

Oh, the horrors of unreconciled bathroom supplies

The indictment went on to list the various infractions such a club represented: the direct defiance of authority by the disposal of human fluids in inappropriate areas, the deception perpetrated against teachers and staff all those times the girls were thought to be innocently playing over by the monkey bars, the unconscionable and unhygienic Initiation through Urination hazing, and finally, the establishment of an unsanctioned charter of The Squat Club at a school whose only approved extracurricular social function was the Beta Club. The tone of the correspondence, though never directly posing such a question in print, seemed to scream: What, in the name of all that’s holy, were these girls thinking? Had they no shame and decorum?  Had they no ladylike sensibilities?  Had they no chigger bites in unseen places to teach them a lesson?  No, while the letter never veered from the High Road, the underlying current suggested that society began to crumble the second a female dropped her bloomers and tee-teed behind a bush. The next logical step for these girls was the detonation of nuclear warheads, mass genocide against those living in our glorious nation, and the consumption of more than one Pop-Tart at a sitting. Things were dire indeed.

The downfall of western civilization

The end of western civilization

Kaitlin folded her own personal Watergate and struggled with the laughter threatening to tear its way out of her body.

“Is it bad, Mommy?” a tiny voice queried from the back seat. “I did my best on that math quiz last Tuesday, but I think I forgot to carry the one sometimes.”

“You’ve got a problem with Number One alright, sweetie, but not in the way you think.”

“What, Mommy?”

“We’re going to talk about it once we get home tonight. After your dad has seen your report card.” And as Kaitlin related to me, just the thought of the look on his face was enough to keep her cackling on the drive home.

© 2013 – Traci Carver