The Artisan in Me

Yesterday and today my oldest son and I have been working on his Pinewood Derby car for Cub Scouts.  It was a good chance for me to connect with my inner artisan and get to know him a bit better.  The conversation went something like this:

Me:  Hey, wake up.  We need to make a Pinewood Derby car from a block of wood that won't embarrass us in front of the other dads.

Artisan:  So, let me get this straight -- you've got a block of wood and you want a car.

Me:  Well, yes.  That's the basic idea.

Artisan:  Okay, so put the wheels on it and let your kid paint it.  Why do you have to bother me with these things?

Me:  Ah, well... I was hoping for a bit more than a boxcar.  You know, shape the wood, sand it, paint it all fancy, put graphite on the wheels to make it fast -- that sort of a thing.

Artisan:  It sounds like you know what you're doing, so I'm going back to sleep now.

Me:  No no no.  I have an idea of what needs to be done, but if I try to do this myself It'll be a complete disaster.  You've gotta help me.

Artisan:  And you think I'll do a better job?

Me:  Yes.  Absolutely.  I mean, you are the inner artisan.

Artisan:  Yes, but I'm inside you.

Me:  What's that supposed to mean?

Artisan:  Let me put it this way, I can only be as good as the raw material with which I have to work.

Me:  Hey!  Are you comparing me to raw material?!

Artisan:  Sorry, you're right of course.  That is unfair to raw materials everywhere.  I mean, at least they can eventually produce a useful product.

Me:  Ouch.

Artisan:  The truth hurts.  Don't blame me.

Me:  Shut up and go back to sleep.

Artisan:  No problem.  I never really woke up anyway -- you see I'm just a figment of your imagination...

...

Sorry kid, I think you're pretty much on your own.