we are the champions

I am claiming moral victory right now over Cub Scout Pack 843 for two little, shiny, fake brass reasons. May I present you Exhibit A and Exhibit B?


This afternoon, Pack 843 held their Pinewood Derby, an annual event in scouting where scouts come together to race wooden cars of their own design. Some months ahead of time, you get a box that contains a block of wood, 4 wheels, nails to hold the wheels in and some number stickers. I asked if a woodworking professional came with the package, but doing your own woodworking is apparently part of "the fun".

I took woodworking with Mr. Howard in middle school and although I loved that man, woodworking was not my forte. The only thing I really remember from his class is that you shouldn't put your fingers in the path of the instrument that cuts wood.

But not to worry, according to these men who run the scout pack. There would be several opportunities to work on the car with qualified people who own and operate woodworking equipment.

Mac and I went to the December pack meeting where the aforementioned woodworking would happen and there was a scheduling conflict with the facility so no meeting and therefore no woodworking occurred. I pull the "helpless female with a husband in Afghanistan" routine when necessary and the pinewood derby seemed cause enough to invoke the helpless female routine. These scout leaders assured me that there was no need to worry; there would be another opportunity in January and they would not let me flounder.

Right.

No meeting was ever scheduled and quite frankly, I just hoped the pinewood derby had been forgotten by everybody and we just wouldn't have to do this thing. But then a pack meeting was scheduled for late January, again with the idea that everybody could work on their cars together. One other mother and I showed up along with all these dads. And nobody would help us. They kept saying they'd help us and after Mac and the other boy drew their design on the block of wood (per the men's instructions) and went to have help in cutting it out (part B of the men's instructions), everybody was suddenly busy. So we patiently waited until we ran out of patience and then we took matters into our own hands. The other mom has a friend who's a professional woodworker. She called him and he said he loved doing pinewood derby cars but his children were past that stage and he'd be happy to help us.

So we went over in early February and he cut out the designs that boys had drawn on some woodworking equipment that could have cut off my arm. Then the boys got to sand, paint and decorate their cars.

I didn't think Mac's car stood a chance when I saw some of the other cars. They were sleek, aerodynamic numbers. Sort of Ferrari-esque things compared to something more akin to your grandmother's Buick. They had high-gloss paint jobs whereas Mac's had stickers that buckled and bumped because we didn't know we needed to sand off the first layer of paint after the wood had expanded (or something like that).

But I'll be really honest with you. I really, really wanted Mac's car to win because of the lack of help we got. Those men told us to just order precut cars off the internet and race those, so we "helpless, little ladies" (my words, not theirs) wouldn't have to worry about cutting the car out. Wasn't the designing and cutting out part of the fun, though? You know the saying about a woman scorned? Well I wanted victory and by golly, sweet victory is mine (and Mac's, of course). He was thrilled with his trophies; he is his father's son and they do love to win. I just needed the moral victory. We are all winners at Casa Story today.

P.S. The boy we worked with won second place for Tiger Cubs, so it was a doubly sweet victory for his mom and me!