Today was my very first experience with the Pinewood Derby. It was interesting, to say the least. Lots of build-up and tons of excitement. Adults included! Let’s not forget about the cake either. You know how I feels about the cake…but that’s neither here nor there. The real story lies in the derby cars themselves. Or should I say the father’s of the boy’s who had derby cars? You be the judge…
My understanding of the theory behind the Pinewood Derby is a bonding experience between parent and child. A fun experience with your chirrens. But, and you knew there had to be one. The kids are supposed to do the majority of the work themselves. Should I repeat that? THE KIDS ARE SUPPOSED TO DO THE MAJORITY OF THE WORK THEMSELVES.
Wanna guess where this is going? Yeah. It ain’t pretty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as competitive as they come. But this is for the kids! When you bring in your “son’s” car and go through registration and weigh in, and then bring it to the table where it will sit under my watchful eye(untouched by anyone!) and then actually have the gall to ask me if it really has to stay on the table because you worked so hard on it. C’mon, man. Really? Every single adult in that gym knew that your son had nothing to do with that car. Which is really sad because there’s an adult category. Seriously.
What are you teaching your children? You have to win no matter what? If you can’t do something, don’t worry, Dad will? Good job. I suppose you expect them to always get a trophy too, eh? Too bad that isn’t how it works in the real world. You are setting your children up for failure. And for what? A plastic trophy?
I guess I must be crazy. My children came up with their designs and their dad and grandpa cut them out. They sanded them. They painted them, with very little help from me. Were they perfect in every way? Not even close. Did they win any trophies? Nope. Not a one. Did they have the best day ever(their words!)? Damn skippy they did. And that means more to me than any trophy or award.
Which is the entire point.