Our family vacation had been a little rough on Luke.

Snorkeling had not gone well. While there were many creatures to see, Luke ingested a considerable amount of the ocean 20 minutes in and spent the next two hours on the boat drinking Sprite and watching his dad hunt for sea life.

Next came fishing. Jaws had nothing on the baby nurse shark that managed to break free from my 9-year-old’s line, leaving the child fishless and overheated on the boat, where he spent the next 90 minutes lying under a cold wet towel, questioning the Bahamian captain incessantly about every known fish in the Caribbean, likely while said captain prayed for an unexpected storm to necessitate an early return to shore.

By the trip’s end, Luke was hungry for a moment of triumph when his soul, which longed for adventure, could rise to a challenge with his body, which obviously did not spend enough time outdoors.

It was on our last day aboard the Disney cruise ship that Luke seized such opportunity, setting his sights on the Mario Kart Championship, to be held in the kids’ club that final afternoon.

“I know you’re really good at Mario Kart,” my husband said, “but there are lots of kids on this ship who probably play even more than you do. So don’t worry if you don’t win. It just means you have more in your life than virtual racing.”

While I understood my husband’s pre-emptive post-loss pep talk, I hated to see Luke lose hope. I tried to boost his confidence.

“‘Where does the power come from to see the race to its end?'” I asked. “‘From within.'” (“Chariots of Fire”)

His eyebrows furled. I tried again.

“Remember, Luke, ‘What we do in life echoes in eternity.'” (“Gladiator”)

He scratched his head.

Trying once more, I leaned down and whispered, “Use the Force, Luke.” (“Star Wars” — sorry, couldn’t resist.)

He solemnly nodded as he checked in to compete.

When I returned, my little Jedi Knight was waiting near the entrance wearing a new Disney Cruise Line ball cap and a grin. His Chiclet-sized teeth reached ear to ear, his eyes beamed with pride behind his glasses.

“Luke! Where did you get the hat?” I asked with a smile.

“I won the Mario Kart tournament,” he answered nonchalantly. “I even beat a guy who works here.”

As he raced to share the good news with the rest of the family, I questioned our parenting skills, specifically how much time he was spending with Funky Kong.

Luke was so elated with his Mario (Kart) miracle, though, that we let him savor the sweetness of success for two whole weeks before letting it sour his plans for the summer. For after victoriously proving he might not have much more in his life than virtual racing after all, it was time for Luke to hang up his joystick and retire. But at least he went out on top.