Winning (literally, not the Charlie Sheen definition)

This week, Patrick and Lucy participated in the annual pig race at their school. For those of you who haven't been indoctrinated into the ways of the pig race, here's a little background. Each fall, the kids do fundraising for school. Those families that raise at least $250, get a mechanical pig. During Catholic Schools Week, one of the big events is the pig race. This is where each decorated pig gets lined up in the gym and they snort and wiggle their way to the finish line. The child with the winning pig wins $100. Which, as far as my 1st- and 2nd-grader are concerned, is equivalent to a cool million.

This event is major - and I do mean major - to my children. The night before the race, we decided how to decorate the pig. Of course, since it's a shared pig, this involved an extended argument about whether or not the pig could have a puffy painted flower on its nose. We then outfitted the pig with batteries and tested it out in the kitchen. (This test is necessary since Patrick is still traumatized by his first race. In kindergarten, his pig had a lame leg that made it only go in circles.) 

What's funny about the whole event is that my kids actually believe that they'll win. I suppose being a cynical adult has colored my view of the world, because I never in a million years expect to win anything. Patrick and Lucy, on the other hand, were already planning how to split and spend their winnings. So, we sat in the kitchen with the pig and a stopwatch and experimented with ways to try to win the race. After a while, we figured out that hot-gluing American Girl Doll shoes shaved twelve whole seconds off our time.

I sent the kids off to school Tuesday morning with a puffy-painted pig with pink and purple shoes. Sadly, those doll shoes were no match for that gymnasium floor. As has happened the past three years, the winner has been someone that the children know well. I suppose, if it had been some random sixth-grader that they didn't know, it might seem less likely that they could win. Unfortunately, when the winner is in your own class, it makes it seem so much more attainable. After school, I had two very disappointed pig race losers on my hands. 

That's the funny thing about being a kid. They have all the faith in the world that they will be the winners of any race or raffle. And they are highly disappointed when it doesn't work out that way. I suppose we'll have to hire an engineer from MIT to help us figure out what'll work for next year's pig race. Either that or strap some rocket boosters to its little, pink ass.

Next year, rocket boosters...

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