Pinewood Derby Bliss... or Torment?

We usually love Pinewood Derby around here (Okay, slight exaggeration on my part, but the boys love it). Rick and the boys obsess for weeks over a design, paint job, weight and getting just the right amount of graphite applied. I just stand back, shake my head and stay out of their way. This year Rick had to travel for work, Sam forgot to mention that the race was on the way and by the time Rick got back in town he had one day to help Sam throw it all together. It totally threw off the Pinewood groove and made it miserable in a whole new way. So, being the amazing wife and mother that I am, I took matters into my own hands. I loaded up the boys in the van, drove the incredible distance of 2 miles to the place I could buy Scout stuff and shopped away. Thankfully, BSA has come out with this BRILLIANT thing called "skins". Instead of painting your car, you simply take the skin, place it on the car, apply a damp cloth and rub, rub, rub. After a few minutes you have a beautiful product that looks like it is painted. It is what kept my boys alive... the stress of thinking about the amazing paint job that they didn't have time to do was almost too much to bare. Can you imagine the horror of not having time to sand, paint, sand, paint, sand and paint for days on end? I have to say that I did not miss all the stress of the final week of Pinewood preparation- not being allowed to walk into whatever room the car is in or breathing within 30 feet of it and all the male bonding as the huddle over the chunk of dead tree. In one evening, we went from a block of wood to a finished product! Sam was happy with his finished product, what more could I ask for? "Yay" for BSA and all the ways they come up with to get our money but save a lot of marriage counseling and mental anguish for our family.

Just when I thought we were out of the woods and in for an excellent Pinewood experience, race night arrived. We walked in with smiles, I sat down by a friend who made the comment how much she hated this event because without fail some poor little kid would leave here crying. I am not very sympathetic to that notion because I think it is pretty silly to get upset over a Pinewood Derby- although I have seen it before. Not 15 minutes into it another friend says, "Hey Dee, is Sam upset about something? I think I just saw him leaving the room with tears." The other friend then looks at me and says what we are both thinking, "I guess that upset child will be your child tonight". Let's say I am a little more sympathetic now.

Apparently when it was Sam's round to race, his name was called out, he went to get his car and the "guard" over the cars told him not to touch the cars and leave them alone. Sam being the obedient and non-confrontational type simply left it alone and wouldn't tell the scout leader that they called his name and it was his time to race it. Rick told him to get his car and hurry up. Sam was in a pickle. He didn't know if he should listen to his Dad or go against the "Car Guard". When his Dad told him a little more sternly to hurry up and get his car, Sam grabbed it took it up to the racing station and darted out of the room. He didn't even stick around to see the race- which he placed 1st in. It was all downhill from there.
Oh, what a terrible thing that his car was so fast and he placed high enough to go to district. There was nothing that Sam wanted less than to have anything else to do with Pinewood Derby. Emma on the other hand was ecstatic because she made a pink Derby car and was told that they have an open event at district and she could race her car. In the meantime, I forced Sam to go up on the stage after they called his name at least 3 times so that they could take pictures. He snarled through the pictures but did get up there. They "compounded" his car after the pictures as part of the process of it going to district. He later asked his Dad, "This is what I get for winning, they take my car away?" Rick explained that after district he would get it back. It only added to Sam's view of the whole thing being miserable. That night I found his certificate all wadded up in a ball on the floor. That pretty much sums up Derby night. Who would of thought that placing in the derby and heading to district would be such a traumatic event. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, bliss or torment?