Our ten-year-old has dabbled in a number of youth activities. At present, he’s “retired” (his words) from hockey, basketball, basketball, basketball (he joined, retired, joined, retired, joined, and then retired over the span of five years), piano, dance, football, and soccer. He remains committed to theater, baseball, and golf. As baseball and golf are both summer activities and K-5 theater has time gaps in programming, at the start of this school year we told Ten he needed an activity for the winter months. After going through every option from robotics to basketball x4, he announced that he wanted to join Cub Scouts.
“Great choice,” we said, and Kyle signed him up.
Here’s a fact: Kyle was never a scout. I was a Brownie for an unknown number of years and a Girl Scout for an unknown number of years, and the reason those things are unknown is that the entirety of my memory of scouting is 1) sitting in the lunchroom of Belmont Elementary while my mother either led or participated in or had absolutely nothing to do with a Brownie meeting about rocks, 2) convincing my much cuter little sister to sit on top of a counter at my family’s clothing store and sell my Girl Scout cookies while I wandered City Center Mall, and 3) going through the Girl Scout handbook and picking out the six easiest patches, which I earned over the course of about three days and then never did anything ever again. If you combine Kyle’s complete lack of scouting knowledge and my half-ass (possibly no-ass) participation in scouting, you equal two parents who entered Cub Scouts with zero thought as to what “doing a non-sucky job as Cub Scout parents” would entail.
Here’s another fact: We signed Ten up really late for Cub Scouts. So late, actually, that by the time Kyle got him registered and bought his uniform, Ten had been cast as “Nemo” in Finding Nemo and needed to miss every single Cub Scouts meeting until the conclusion of the play. Kyle’s reply back to Ten’s Cubmaster following his, “Welcome to Cub Scouts!” email was “Thank you very much; we’re so sorry, Ten won’t be able to attend for several months.” As was the case from the moment Kyle first contacted him about enrolling Ten in scouts, the Cubmaster was INCREDIBLY NICE about it.
Upon the wrap of Finding Nemo, I took Ten to a den meeting. It was late December, and since it was the final meeting of the year it was both a meeting and a pool party. While the kids swam and learned about healthy choices – as an aside, scouting is pretty clever about incorporating learning into fun – the INCREDIBLY NICE den dads gave me a detailed rundown of upcoming events.
“There’s a sleepover at the Betty basketball facility,” a scout dad said. “We pitch tents, attend a hockey game, watch a movie, and then are awakened by bagpipes.”
“Sounds awesome,” I said. “Except that we’ll be out of town.”
“Then there’s a trip away to a winter camp,” another dad told me. “We do all sorts of great activities and it’s everyone’s favorite trip of the year. We’d really appreciate it if you could come because we need one more chaperone.”
“Sounds amazing,” I said. “Except that we’ll be out of town.”
“The last thing is the pinewood derby,” the INCREDIBLY NICE dads tried one more time. “That’s where you build a car and race it. It’s also where Ten will graduate to Boy Scouts.”
“When is that?” I asked.
“March 7,” they said.
“We’ll be there,” I said.
That night, as ten showered off the chlorine and basked in the glow of pool party-ness, Kyle and I had a discussion about scouts.
“We suck,” I said.
“Yes,” Kyle said. “We need to be better.”
“Yes,” I said. “I will get him to every den meeting from now on.”
“Yes,” Kyle said. “And I will help him with the pinewood derby.”
“The pinewood derby is very important,” I told him. “It’s important to Ten, and it’s important to us not being the worst parents in the history of scouts. Very important.”
“Yes, it is,” Kyle said. “We will do a good job.”
“Do you know how to do a good job at a pinewood derby?” I asked.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “But I will.”
From January to March, I got Ten to every single one of his den meetings. He loved each meeting more than the last. At one of the den meetings, the Cubmaster handed me a small cardboard box containing the contents of Ten’s pinewood derby car – a block of wood, four wheels, and four screws.
“Any advice?” I asked the INCREDIBLY NICE dads.
“YouTube it,” they told me…because everyone is best friends in scouts until the very competitive pinewood derby competition comes rolling around.
Ten decided that he wanted to make a hot dog car, and for the next month he and Kyle whittled and sanded and planed that block of wood into a hot dog. They painted the bun and the dog, and I lent a hand at the end by adding painted ketchup, sesame seeds, and the words “Hot Dawg” – Ten’s spelling – to each side.
Then came the most important part: the weights. Ten’s pinewood derby car could weigh no more than five ounces, and so Kyle ordered a stack of small, sticky weights, borrowed a food scale from a friend and, with Ten, verrry carefully stacked weights on the underside until the scale read “5.0” on the nose.
We set the Hot Dawg on the kitchen island and admired the work.
“That is a very good derby car,” Kyle said to Ten. They shook hands, and Ten ran off.
“Is it a good derby car?” I asked after Ten had left.
“I have no idea,” Kyle said. “We’ll find out.”
Fourteen had a hockey game in West Fargo on the day of the derby and so Kyle and Ten represented Team Kosior at the derby. At 11:05 AM, Kyle texted me:
“We’re here. There are a lot of kids. Some of these cars are very fancy.”
“Is Ten’s car not fancy?” I texted back, but he didn’t respond.
Instead, for the next 30 minutes, Kyle sent pictures of a smiling Ten on a stage receiving a bandanna for his graduation to Boy Scouts, and a patch for his new troop number, and a pin for Citizenship.
And then,
“Race time,” Kyle texted.
Hot Dawg won a heat.
Hot Dawg lost a heat.
Hot Dawg won a heat.
Hot Dawg lost a heat.
This went on for an hour.
In the end, Ten came in 4th overall. AND GUESS WHAT? Hot Dawg won “Favorite Design,” for which his driver – and his parents, who might still be the worst scouts parents but arguably suck a little less than before – were awarded a very cool 3D-printed trophy. Victory.
The photo above is of the award-winning pinewood derby car.
This week on North Dakota Today, we talked about Penny Saxowsky, my Nice Person of the Week, as well as a children’s choir with over 7,000 members (and counting). (Valley News Live)
A Fargo brewery celebrated International Women’s Day by naming a beer after Krissy Block, a beloved longtime employee who passed away last year. (Grand Forks Herald)
The Pollestad family is setting up their own Hockey Fights Cancer fundraiser in Hallock after a memorable meeting with UND’s Ben Strinden. (Grand Forks Herald)
The Grand Forks Public Library has a new place for podcasters. (Grand Forks Herald)
Pending review, Wisconsin’s Alan Hintz is the new North Dakota perch record-holder. (Valley News Live)
North Dakota Nice 
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