Category Archives: Mr. Boy

Lying

Institutions lie. Most adults figure that out more or less quickly. But kids are different. They believe what adults tell them. So what happens when adults lie to them, on purpose? One of the teachers at Mr. B.’s school encourages her students to keep "a private diary" which no one else but them will ever read, she tells them. The object is to encourage writing and creative expression. But the teacher is a liar. She snoops in the private diaries to see what the students are doing. If she doesn’t like what she finds, she tells their parents. Creepy, right? Right.

Sick abed

Fighting off a virus of some kind, mainly by sleeping the day away. It comes with a cough and some sinus trouble. I expect I got it from Mr. B. He has coughed for a week or more, often in my face. Like other things he can’t always remember, he can’t always remember to cover his mouth. He and his chums are little Typhoid Martins, carrying the germs of their hundreds of peers from school and the playground. Their immune systems could fight off the plague. Mine can’t vanquish the common cold.

The trashing of the swords

Hilts, blades, all broken. Some blades snapped in half, others broken off at the hilt. Like the discarded hardware of some ferocious battle. Except they’re all plastic, or foam. And the fights have been mostly with trees. So we gathered them up and put them in the trash, to make way for the next rearming of the combatant, piecemeal or wholesale, as it may be.

The sticky wheel

Moral: never go to a Pinewood Derby with a car with a sticky wheel. I thought we could get away with it, after the epoxy spread to the wheel from where I had applied it to hold the axles on the wood. I turned it a few score times and applied powdered graphite to the axle and the tread in hopes of making it slippery enough that it would at least slide quickly. It came in 66th, dead last. It not only lost its three heats, it never got all the way to the finish line, but slowed and stopped about two-thirds of the way down the track. Next year, when Mr. B. is older and doesn’t have to rely on dumb old Dad, he should do better.

Weigh-in day

Have to get our Pinewood Derby racer weighed today and leave it with the race officials for tomorrow’s competition. We wound up using some tungsten putty, after all, gluing it to the bottom of the car with epoxy. That way, if we’re a little over the maximum of five ounces, we can shave some of the putty off. Something tells me we won’t be so lucky this year as last when we won third place. But we’ll see.

Curious ostrich

Or a hungry one. He stuck his head inside the car when Mr. B. and his Mom and Grandma toured Fossil Rim, southwest of Fort Worth, on Sunday. It was such a surprise, they didn’t get a photograph of it.

Pinewood Derby

Last year, our first race, we got all complicated. Bought tungsten putty to stuff in drilled holes in the body, polished the nail-axles, sanded the plastic wheels, lubicated with powdered graphite. Even bought a scale to weigh the car. Then got to the official weigh-in and discovered it was too light. So used their hot glue gun and lead weights to bring it up to maximum allowed: five ounces. This year Mr. Boy did more of it by himself, including the polishing and sanding and picking out a decal body surface instead of using paint and clear nail polish to make it shine. Might still use the nail polish, but we blew off the tungsten. Going to wait until the weigh-in and use the free weights and remember to space them out on the car’s rear third, for fastest possible running. Last year Mr. B. took third place. This year?