It’s awesome when we’re out in the world and I can teach my
kids something. Like when we park downtown and do math word problems: “If the
meter is 50 cents an hour and I put in 15 cents, how long do we have before we
get a parking ticket?” Or when we try to figure out if the raspberry-colored
splat on the ground is some kid’s ice cream or poop from a bird who ate too
many berries. Or how funny it is that, when you figure out mommy’s weight in
ounces, it’s a big, big number. Which is, for some reason, hilarious. But, hey,
they did a tough multiplication problem. And when we see a goldfinch on the
feeder that’s not bright yellow anymore but muddy brown, we speculate that
goldfinches don’t migrate they adapt. Math and science are everywhere. It’s endless.
This is all especially awesome when
I learn something, too. Like what the
exoskeleton of a really big nasty bug looks like. We found this bug’s shell
still clinging to the leaves in a tree
in our yard. It was holding on for dear life except for the whole it’s-not-alive
thing.
This thing
was so gross and so cool, I was at a loss. I was at once horrified and
fascinated. It took me ten minutes to get up the nerve to go near enough to
snap the pictures. I know, it’s disgusting. But look at it! You can see right
through the frickin’ thing. Wild. And note the leaves, people—those are not
small leaves.
“Hey, kids, check this out!”
Science lesson for the day—check. Two little boys talking about giant bugs and
exoskeletons and bug shells during dinner—my bad. I'm suddenly not in the mood for pasta shells. Pass the wine.
