Pinewood Derby

We are new to the scouting world. So when Ty came home with his little block of wood for the pinewood derby it didn't find a very high placement on the list of to-do's. It sat on the hallway counter for a week or two.

While we were in Huntington Beach I happened to strike up a conversation with my friend about this annual event. She told me how last year had been their first experience and she was not going to repeat the same mistakes. She explained how last year her hubby had been too busy to help so she let her son experiment with his own design and assembly. His car barely made it down the ramp and she was so disappointed to see him miss out on the thrill of the race. This year, she clarified, was not going to be the same. But, she pointed out, this year's new approach with dad meant dad was building the car. She then said, "Brad is so handy he's probably got something really cool planned for Ty, right?"

I have long known that dads get way too involved in the pinewood derby. It's a little boy thing. And Dads are just little boys in big bodies. But our dad was out of town on business. Brad has been averaging 3-4 days a week in the Bay Area the last couple months so this project was up to mom. And this mom had a few too many other things on the list. So the week of the race we finally pulled the block of wood out of the box the day after Ty's surgery. He was so desperate for something to do this was the perfect project for his mandatory day home from school.

I tried to have him do as much of the work as possible. Though sharp tools and power tools other than a sander have no business in the hands of my Tasmanian devil, so I worked most of the tools. He designed the car, sanded the wood, and painted with minimal help.

Brad did participate the night of the weigh in by putting the wheels on and giving in to the other dads' incessant prodding to add a weight to the back of the car.

The night of the race Ty was beaming. He won his first race which was just enough to make him think mom is amazing. But our mom-and-me approach with no dad to engineer the world's fastest chunk-of-wood-with-plastic-wheels-that-really-belongs-in-the-trash-can-afterwards had failed and he lost the second two races. But it didn't matter. Because he is 8. And there were cookies afterwards.

And the boys spent the majority of their time running around like wild monkeys. So the night was a success.