I mentioned in a prior post that at the very end of last year, we bought a minivan in preparation for Lydia’s arrival. Laura is the primary driver of our new newest ride and I took up driving the Chevy pickup that she used to drive. The old Ford pickup has been converted to the “farm truck”.

During all that automotive shuffling, the Chevy’s registration was due to expire. Fortunately Laura recognized that we may be more than just a little busy during the holiday season and she renewed the tags a full month before they expired.

Unfortunately, though, she apparently placed the new tag at the very bottom of my overflowing inbox (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!) so I didn’t put the new tags on the Chevy before the old one expired. In Cheatham County, Tennessee, that’s a sure way to get a ticket the very first time you drive after the expiration date – which is, of course, what happened to me just days after Lydia’s birth. While Beck, Benjamin, and I were returning home from an errand, the blue lights of a State Trooper illuminated my rear view mirror. Benjamin enjoyed seeing the patrol car, the lights, and the trooper. I didn’t.

The fine for such a violation is $151.50. The trooper advised me that if I went to court, I could keep it off my driving record and have the fine waived. I know from a prior experience however that the court costs exceed the amount of the fine.

I decided that I would go to court anyway and take Benjamin with me so he could see our judicial system from start to finish. My only hesitation was that I knew from my prior experience that sometimes the court system is not very happy with people who bring kids into the courtroom. My last time there, a Judge threw a mother out of the courtroom for bringing her three kids, postponing her appearance for another 3 months. He was generally rude and impatient with everyone.

I thought it may be a good experience for Benjamin nonetheless. But I hedged my bets a bit and had Benjamin don his Cub Scout uniform. No Judge would belittle me for bringing a Cub Scout to court for a civics lesson.

On the day of my court appearance, we entered the courtroom. The lady who checked us in, was very nice and even offered to let Benjamin sit up front where he could see the proceedings better. He respectfully declined and sat with me.

As Judge Maxie called driver after driver before him, I could see that he was a fair man and, although he wanted to keep things moving along, he gave each case the consideration it deserved.

Finally my name was called. Benjamin accompanied me to the podium before the Judge. While reading my file, the Judge asked if I had indeed been driving on expired tags; I acknowledged that I had. He asked if I had since registered the vehicle in question. I explained that it had been registered before the citation was issued but that I had failed to attach the tag to the vehicle.

With that he looked up and saw Benjamin beside me. He gave slight smile, looked Benjamin in the eye, and said “I’ll tell you what. If you can recite the Cub Scout motto, I’ll dismiss the charges against your dad.” Benjamin looked up at me and I explained the Judge’s request. Benjamin recited the motto. The Judge struck the gavel and pronounced that all charges have been dropped and the court costs were waived. I thanked him and beamed with a bit of pride over my son. Being completely caught off guard by the Judge’s impromptu request, he came through.

I explained it all to Benjamin as we left the courtroom, telling him that he had just saved me over $150. The least I could do was buy him lunch. We went to Cracker Barrel where he had pancakes with baked apples and a root beer. Later we visited a couple of my clients in town and finally headed home in the late afternoon.

What a great day!

Last night was the big race. The culmination of all our hard work, designing, carving, sanding, and painting Benjamin’s entry in Pack 178’s Pinewood Derby came to fruition. He worked hard on his reproduction of the 1940 Ford pickup.

The whole family loaded up in the Mommy-Van and we headed to church (where our pack meets) for a pizza dinner and the race.

There were 8 cars entered in the race (we have a rather small pack). Plus, a couple of siblings made a car for fun.

With so few entrants, each car got to race multiple times in our triple elimination race.

We all had a good time watching the boys get excited over their cars.

In the end, Benjamin’s truck placed in the middle of pack. But, he did win the Best Looking Award.

Here’s this year’s truck and last year’s Jeep (which placed 2nd in the best looking category).

One of the highlights for Benjamin was getting to race his truck against a car that I had made when I was a Bear Scout some 30+ years ago. (It’s amazing what a mother will hang on to!)

The same basic kit was used way back then so my car still fit on the track. The nails used as axles were rusty and one of the wheels barely turned, but that didn’t matter to Benjamin. He wanted to take on his old man.

Of course he beat me by 20 or more car lengths; I was just happy to see my car cross the finish line. I told Benjamin to enjoy it now because I’m going to save his car for the next 35 years and laugh when his son’s car zooms past his truck on the track.

He asked why I didn’t paint mine. I told him Olsen’s Mercantile was out of paint back then. He just rolled his eyes.

Benjamin absolutely loves Cub Scouts. The Scouting activities prompt us to be intentional about spending time together, doing quality things. We have fun, but it also teaches Benjamin sound values and important life skills. Rachel, who is not old enough yet to join the Girl Scouts, frequently accompanies us to the Scout meetings and has a ball, too. I’ve posted more than one blog entry on these activities.

Sunday afternoon during the interval between worshiping our Lord in His house and the SuperBowl game, we were once again spending time as a family. While Laura and Lydia had some time together, Benjamin, Rachel, and I began carving his Pinewood Derby car.

When it’s time to pick a design for the vehicle, I have Benjamin go to his collection of little Matchbox cars and pick the one that he likes best that day. We then try to recreate it in a 3 inch by 7 inch block of pine. This year he chose a 1940 Ford pickup truck. He apparently thinks quite highly of my skills; this was not going to be easy.

As we began slowly removing the excess wood to release the old model Ford from its confines inside the block, we talked about what we were doing and the tools we were using. Specifically, we talked about how sharp wood chisels are and why his part in the carving would be limited to using his pocket knife and sandpaper.

Unfortunately one thing we didn’t talk enough about was safety. As I was working on the front wheel wells, the block of wood slipped and the wood chisel connected with my left hand at the first knuckle on my index finger (where my finger attaches to my hand).

I immediately knew that this was not something a little band-aid was going to cure, so we quickly loaded up the family in the Mommy-Van and headed to St. Thomas’ Emergency Room. Once there, I had Laura drop me off; a germ-filled ER is no place for a month-old infant during the flu season. They were able to see me very quickly.

As each of the medical personnel (triage nurse, vital signs nurse, etc) saw me, they, of course, asked how the accident happened and I gave each an abbreviated version of the story. I was trying to keep myself distracted by trying to make them laugh during the story. One nurse even asked if I had earned my first-aid badge that day.

After several shots to numb the area, 5 stitches, and a tetanus shot to prevent other illnesses, I was on my way back home. We made it back almost in time for the SuperBowl.

I was very, very lucky. Despite the location of the injury,
no nerves were severed and there is no indication of ligament or tendon
damage. Again, this really amazes me considering the location of the
injury.

On the way home, we discussed how this silly injury could have been avoided. I also underscored in the kid’s minds that this was not their fault, that there was no way they caused it and no way they could have prevented it. (We had already had this discussion during the ride to the hospital, but I wanted to make very sure they understood this. Just before the accident happened, I had asked the kids to stop bouncing around so much because I was working with a very sharp tool. A minute later I cut myself. On the way to hospital, Benjamin remarked that he and Rachel shouldn’t have been bouncing around so much. Poor kid.  I needed to make sure he didn’t blame himself. He doesn’t, but wishes it didn’t happen.)

This was not the way I wanted to spend that Sunday afternoon. But I am thankful and feel very blessed that the injury was far less traumatic than it could have been.

In Cub Scouts, most everything can be a teachable moment – not only for the Scout and his little sister, but in this case for the father of the Scout, too.