I was the kid in shop class whose bird house looked like a bike ramp. Nothing I did was even, stable, or functional. But I was cunning. When the shop teacher would arbitrarily grab a nearby student's in-progress project and use it as an example, I would try to be that student. Then he could use the jigsaw, hammer, or drill on my project, giving me a more reasonable chance of passing the course.
Tonight at Cub Scouts the boys were given the task of building a herb planter from a wooden kit purchased at Lowe's. Unfortunately for Marshall, each of the boys was teamed with their father. Of course I was the only dad to forget to bring a hammer, so we were already behind. Then I had to read the five-step directions three times, putting us behind the pace. I wasn't surprised when our planter was crooked, put together in the wrong order, and had nails sticking out.
Marshall did a good job, and I helped correct our mistakes, feeling badly that I didn't forsee some of the challenges so his project could look better. On the way home I tried to tell him the story of my frustrated legacy, but he cut me off with, "Nobody's perfect, dad."
What did he care? He got to work on a project with his normally-preoccupied father, and had a gift to give his mother. On the way home he asked, "Is it Mother's Day yet? When is her birthday? Can I give it to her for Thanksgiving?" When we got home Paula was clearly exasperated with all the packing for vacation, but I was glad to see her great instincts kick in--graciously thanking Marshall for the imperfect project he presented from behind his back.