A dilemna

Recently I took Beau to a mate’s birthday party at a slot car venue. It was the day after I returned from Europe, and Chick was heartbroken to have to stay with his mum.

He curled up into a ball, hands over his eyes and sobbed. I’m going to blame the jetlag that didn’t eventuate and Chicky’s distress for what I did.

The party boy is a little friend of Beau’s, and he has competitive parents. There’s nothing wrong with healthy competition, but after his neverending thirst for winning races and being first at everything I got kinda irked.

I did what any other parent there wanted to do.

In the slot cars, there are eight lanes. The two end cars on each side always come off their tracks and have to be placed back.

After noticing this, I told Beau to move into the centre lanes with his car and watched as his orange car flew after the blue which was the birthday boy’s. A third car came up behind. In the final minute it was a tie between the orange and the yellow car to come second. Being second in this race was equal to winning as they had said that the birthday boy had already won a medal.

To explain this feeling of competitiveness I was struck with, I need to interject. Most of the boys at the party were rugby friends of the birthday boy. Beau doesn’t play rugby, and doesn’t know them very well. The birthday boy is so intent on winning he forgets to enjoy his experience.

My mind traversed time to some of my awkward moments from school, so I took charge of the situation like a deluded father.

I was poised on the corner to help pick up and replace the outer lane cars. Then the yellow car came loose and spun off the track. My dilemma arose. Do I stall slightly or do I jump onto it like it was the orange car? Ten seconds later the orange car crossed the line in second.

Beau has his own world to defend himself in, like Chicky and like all kids. I know that. But sometimes, you just want to throw them a curveball they can catch.