It was a tough Saturday for Charlie.
He raced in his first Pinewood Derby, a contest by which Cub Scouts transform a block of wood into a racing car and competing against other Cub Scouts in a race down a 32 foot long track.
I competed in many a Pinewood Derby when I was a kid, so I was pleased to see that decades later, the tradition continues.
Unlike in my day, however, today’s Pinewood Derby races are timed to the thousandth of a second, meaning that the ultimate winner isn’t always known until the computer averages the times of the cars to determine the fastest one.
Charlie designed and built his car almost entirely on his own, so we didn’t know what to expect when we arrived at Saturday’s Pinewood Derby. Charlie’s car ran in four preliminary heats against three other cars, racing each time in a different lane, and his car was victorious in every heat.
He was thrilled. So, too, were we. His research and hard work was paying off.
Charlie’s car advanced to the final set of races alongside three other competitors. Four cars in all racing for three trophies.
Charlie placed third in the first of four final heats, but he placed fourth in the other three races. Though Elysha and I were almost certain that he was going to finish in fourth place overall based upon these results, Charlie wasn’t so sure, so when the Scoutmaster announced, “In third place…” and accidentally flashed Charlie’s name on the screen, Charlie went from elated to devastated.
The series of events really couldn’t have been designed any better to crush his spirits:
- Win all four of your preliminary heats. One of only two cars to do so.
- Then lose by thousandths of a second in a series of final races against three other competitors.
- Then have your name flashed on the screen as the third place finisher.
- Then be told, “Oops, you finished fourth. Sorry. And there is no trophy for fourth place.”
Ouch.
We recommended that in the future, the Scoutmasters race just three cars in the final series of heats or simply add a fourth place trophy. Putting one child in the position of racing in the finals and not winning anything is probably not ideal.
As Elysha said, “Why not just let one more kid go home feeling good?”
To his credit, Charlie handled his disappointment well. He was upset, of course, and it took a while before he stopped complaining about flashing his name in third place, which I understand. It was an honest mistake, but I’m still complaining about it today.
About an hour after returning home, Clara came downstairs with a gift for Charlie:
Charlie’s Fun with Coupon Book
Included in the book are coupons for:
- Watch a three movie marathon with Clara – Your choice of movies (except for Star Wars and superheroes)
- No mention of mythology for 24 hours
- No kisses for 6 hours
- For fun only duel
- Clara does your chores for 24 hours (not valid on clothing and room cleaning)
- No Percy Jackson references for 24 hours
I’m most impressed with correct use of the apostrophe in “Charlie’s” on the front of the coupon book
I’m most jealous of the “No mythology for 24 hours” coupon. I offered to purchase it from Charlie for a sizable sum, but he declined.
It’s good to have a sister like Clara on a day that seemed to perfectly designed for disappointment.
I’m not opposed to my child losing a contest. He recently endured a winless season of baseball. Many, many games played. Not a single victory. Disappointing, for sure, but still fun. And many lessons learned.
But when events conspire so effectively to break your little boy’s heart, it’s tough to swallow.
Maybe I’ll hire a team of mechanical engineers from NASCAR next year to assist in the design and build, though I suspect Charlie would reject the help.
To his ever-loving credit, he would prefer to do the work on his own.
