She Blinded Me With Science

By Gregory Keer

I’m holding baby Ari in one hand while finishing dinner as Benjamin (age 7) and Jacob (3) run around the house, inflicting pain on each other, when my wife calls out, “Science experiments!”

Immediately, the little demolition men trample to the kitchen table, where what’s left of my enchiladas is whisked away in favor of a tall glass of water and a bottle of cooking oil.

“Tonight, we’re going to see what happens when oil and water mix,” Wendy announces like some kind of feminine (and infinitely more attractive) refugee from Beakman’s World.

“I want to pour the oil,” little Jacob says as he climbs on top of the Formica tabletop.

“I want to add food coloring!” Benjamin chimes in.

“Wait a minute, nothing toxic is going to happen here, is it?” I say, only half kidding.

Actually, the whole scene is anything but toxic as Wendy leads us on a chemistry journey to watch oil and water separate and food colors blend to form different hues. Being scientifically curious plays well for my wife, in her work as a professor who teaches college students to educate young children, and as a mom trying to entertain a houseful of boys.

But as someone whose own mother taught him not to play with chemicals because the wrong mix of rubbing alcohol and baby powder could melt off a limb, I have to wonder why my wife thinks science is so much fun. When did moms go from, “Don’t play with those chemicals, they might hurt you” to “Let’s blow something up?”

I don’t know, but, certainly, my children’s personal Marie Curie has wowed them with such tricks as a clay volcano that erupts from a concoction of vinegar and baking soda and the ever-amazing hard-boiled-egg-in-a-bottle trick. She’s taught the boys botany with plants around the garden and read them books on everything from geology to zoology.

But she’s not the only source of chemical-physical-biological fun. By now, Benjamin has attended half-a-dozen birthday parties headlined by a company called Mad Science®. At these functions, various nutty-professor actor-types perform experiments that entertain and inform young children and send them home with their own dish of green slime (that sits on a kitchen shelf until your toddler opens it up and turns your kitchen floor chartreuse).

And that’s not all! At school, Benjamin learned how mealworms turn into darkling beetles and, at summer camp, he built a battery-powered vehicle from scratch. For Jacob, he experimented with his baby brother, testing how long it took before Mommy and Daddy noticed Ari was turning purple.

All of this boggles my right-brained personality. I’m the music and film guy, the dad who prefers Lichtenstein to Einstein. Yet, the pull to dazzle my children with the magic of science has managed to suck me in, just a little – if only to keep up with my wife.

On a recent Sunday, Benjamin begged me to open a chemistry set marked for children 10 and older. I tried everything to dissuade him from delving into its disastrous possibilities. Wouldn’t he rather play some catch, watch mindless cartoons, or eat candy? Nothing would deter my little Dr. Jekyll.

“Let’s take this to the patio,” I said, gingerly moving the set from the dining room.

“This way we can hose down the poisons.”

“No one’s going to get poisoned,” my wise seven-year-old assured me.

Outside, on a plastic table, wearing latex gloves and goggles, I proceeded to open up the box with Benjamin. It was then that Jacob padded out in his underpants, wearing my good glasses for his own safety.

“I want to do ‘speriments, too!” he exclaimed.

Anxious that someone would get hurt, I went over all the written precautions, preaching to my son that, “Science is not like playing with soap and water. This stuff can irritate your eyes, put holes in your jeans, and worse.”

Benjamin pulled out a mini beaker and some tubes while I read the labels on the bottles of power. On the first one, I ripped off the goggles and shouted, “Calcium hydroxide! Do you know that this stuff is fatal if inhaled!”

Benjamin laughed. Jacob nearly cried as he picked up my goggles, “Quick, put them on or your eyes will turn into FIRE!”

At that point, Wendy came along to save the day. We boxed up the chemicals but used the non-toxic plastic paraphernalia to perform an experiment with various liquids and some Playdoh®.

Once again, Wendy made sure we were all entertained, happy, and safe. It’s a talent she has both in science and in family. So it is for her, and all the other moms out there who manage to keep their husbands and kids in perfect chemical balance, that I wish a Happy Mother (of Invention) Day.