The miracle of science

September 3, 2011

Kids, take my word for it, some day, you’ll have a kid of your own who is smarter than you.  Suddenly, at 35, the true purpose of your education will become perfectly clear. 

My son is desperate to know how everything works.  He is frustrated by his lack of understanding about the physics of car engines and the chemistry of cooking. 

He can’t learn fast enough to satisfy his curiosity.  And I am not much help. 

Remember when you were in science class in high school, dissecting frogs and memorizing the periodic table, wondering when you’d ever use any of that stuff in real life? 

I find myself digging deep into my memory for any shred of recollection about condensation and zero gravity.  I know I learned these things.  But what do they mean?  My five-year-old son’s guess is as good as mine.

I confess that sometimes, when he’s coming up with his own elaborate explanation of how gasoline makes a car run or why baking soda makes cakes rise, I just smile and nod and say, “Yes!  That’s it!  You’ve got it!” 

I have no idea. I really shouldn’t have copied off the kid next to me in junior chemistry. Turns out, I actually would need to know that stuff some day.

Every year for my son’s birthday I spend hours in the children’s section of a book store in search of the perfect hard cover that best reflects my son’s interests and personality. This year, the perfect book happened to be about baseball, not science. 

But I also stumbled across a book of experiments.  It is written for children much older than my son.  It provides the materials and ingredients necessary to create minor chemical reactions and small explosions. 

It gives instructions on how to make a bulb light up and how to grow seeds on a paper towel in the dark (who knew?).

Despite the fact that my son cannot yet read, I wrapped up the science book and gave it to my son for his birthday.  But it wasn’t really for him.  It was actually for me.

For months now, my son’s daily question has been, “Can we do an experiment?”  

We were both getting bored watching the baking soda and vinegar bubble over the sides of our tinfoil volcanoes.  We’d tested the impact of food coloring on everything from paper towels to driveway gravel.  I was running out of ideas.

 Now, thanks to the experiment book, I enthusiastically tape balloons to straws and watch them buzz across the room on a string, and happily drop pennies into a glass of vinegar and salt solution.  We really go through the vinegar at our house.

 Turns out, science can actually be fun.  This book might be one of the best gifts I ever gave my son, or myself.  Since my son can’t handle the household chemicals or read the instructions, it provides me with the perfect opportunity to spend time with my kid. 

Who knew that white vinegar and my least favorite subject in school would provide such a special time with my son? 

It is said that scientists are unemotional and lack spirituality.  Whoever says that doesn’t know my little scientist.  His enthusiasm for science is contagious, and each and every experiment is a miracle, for both of us.

This article first appeared in the Lewistown News-Argus and the Sidney (Mont.) Herald on September 3, 2011.