Tonight, my oldest son won first place in his division in our church's annual pinecar derby race. This is a huge accomplishment in our house, as much for me as for him. You see, even though it's his car, due to his youth (and, frankly, his immaturity and ADD) I'm the once who must take on the majority of the car's construction.
Lets see...
Design: Me (with limited input from him once he realized that I couldn't make it look like some CGI spacecraft out of the latest Hollywood blockbuster)
Fabrication: Me (well, he's only eight and I would rather him keep all of his didgets, so I'll man the bandsaw)
Sanding: Me ("You know, Dad, sanding just isn't my thing.")
Weight distribution: Me (using a drill to hollow out spaces for tungsten weights, see "Fabrication" above)
Wheel preperation: Me (again with sandpaper AND the drill)
Weight extraction and redistribution: Me (using drill once more to remove the previously inserted weight as the danged car exceeded the weight limit by almost an ounce)
Autobody repair: Me (my kid with wood glue to repair major split from axel insertion-- never!)
In the end, I/we had a sweet car that finally weighed the exact limit and beat out the competitors handily. This is clearly proof of God as it's a miracle the thing worked at all with my/our track record from years passed. Even more miraculous is the fact that the boy was at least in the garage with me for most of the ordeal.
My son is like a little finch flitting from place to place and never having more than a thirty-second conversation due to his inability to focus his and his natural inclination toward chaos. All through the construction phase words such as, "Don't touch that switch or you'll cut your hand off," and, "put the spray paint down before you make Mommy's car look even worse," and, "Touch another tool without my permission and just see what happens," rang throughout the garage for the entirity of our time on the project. There were times he just about drove me off the deep end, and I'm sure he probably felt the same about me.
And then the real miracle happened.
The boy actually painted his entire car all by himself with my willing assistance and it looked very, very awesome when finished.
Beautiful to us, in fact.
Us. Not "I/we" or "my/our", but "us".
For that moment, we were a team and he was actually enjoying it! There was no yelling, no threatening, no whining, no tears-- just two guys, and dad and his son, working on a car.
Sheer unadulterated bliss.
We had a rare but exceedingly beautiful father/son moment framed in the context of a simple wooden car, and I wouldn't trade that for all the money in Fort Knox.
After the race, my boy was so happy for having won. He beamed from ear to ear. He was a winner!
And after the race, I was so happy for having built that car WITH my son.
WITH my son.
I'm still beaming from ear to ear.
Tonight, I am a winner not because I did most of the work, but because my son recognizes it as a collaboration with his old man.
Partners.
Yeah, I am a winner.
Reminds me of the time this dad and son made a delcemer for a sons gift to another student. belive it or not it turned out beautiful and would even make noise. That man and boy were also so very proud and blessed. They did'nt have a clue on how before starting.
ReplyDeleteYeah Dad, that was one of many sweet projects we made together. Let's see, I remember a modified camouflaged space shuttle with a pill bottle and toothpick gun turret added on top, an original spaceship design made from a two liter soda bottle and caulk nozzle, a sonic screwdriver ground out of a broom handle, and, best of all, the lyre (not dulcimer) for my pledge father. Those were special times and I wouldn't trade them for nothing. Thanks for them all!
ReplyDelete