You know that day after you've had a horrible night's sleep disrupted by nightmares that your therapist would probably tell you are related to your issues with your mother and then you step on the scale to find out yes, you're bloated and it might be PMS or it might be that you're a lazy chocolate-chip-cookie whore and your kids are whiny and it's hard to get out of bed because now it's dark out and there's a -4 degree wind blowing at 30 mph and you take your 6 year old to open up his first savings account but you can't because ever since 9/11 all people, even little kids, need 2 forms of government-approved ID to prove that they're not using their $30 in a plastic piggy bank to fund a terrorist cell because OMFG that's going to keep the populace safe?
Yeah, I'll write a different post.
I saw an honest to goodness robin yesterday out our back window. A sign of hope.
Mr. T's Boy Scout Pinewood Derby was last night. It took a village to transform my boy's car from that block of wood. Our neighbor Mr. M cut the wood. Our friend Mr. S helped weight it and assure we had a legitimately sized car. Three pierced and pimpled teenaged boys at Hardware Hank helped me add more weight and the lady at the post office placed it on the scale to confirm we came in at an even 5.0 oz. Mr. D attached the wheels, Mr. T did all the paint/design work, I coordinated all the parts of the car's development and handled the transportation and funding of the car.
We didn't expect to win--I only hoped to qualify to compete and not come in dead last. The car weighed in at a pretty respectable 4.9 oz. on the official Boy Scouts of America Pinewood Derby scale and Mr. T got lots of complements on how his car looked from seasoned veterans of the derby. As a 1st year Scout, my boy had no edge in this race. Last year's winners were brothers who have a father who builds and races racecars in real life. The kid who came in 2nd last year is the 3rd son of the Cubmaster--his dad has built over a dozen of these Pinewood Derby cars. Most of the parents involved have built houses, cottages, engines, deer stands and trailers--they understand things like drill presses and skill saws and flathead screwdrivers. Mr. D has built a healthy 401K for his employees. I've built Brio train tracks and block towers in our playroom. We figured Mr. T was screwed.
He came in fourth. FOURTH! The son of the racecar driver came in 2nd. The son of the Cubmaster came in 1st. Mr. T's car was a contender--right in the pack, just an inch behind the leader in his losing heat.
It was a triumphant night for all of us.
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