Scientific Progress

The chitter-chatter of little voices greeted me as I climbed the stairs for bed last night. It's 10:30; what could they be up to this time? I tip-toe quietly to Katie's door. Silence is key when investigating night-time antics. The sound of parental footsteps makes them scatter like roaches when the light's turned on. I discover Katie and Michael sitting on the floor of their bathroom, surrounded by 25-30 small dixie cups filled with various odd-colored substances. There's water all over the floor. And toothpaste. And shampoo. Foaming hand soap. Liquid bath soap. Every toiletry at their disposal is on the floor and in these cups. "We're playing Scientist," Katie announces cheerfully. "What???" "We're playing Scientist" she repeats, a little slower, for my benefit. "Look at this mess, Katie!!!!" "Mooooom. We. Are. Playing. Scientist." She's speaking slowly and patiently, with just a hint of irritation in her voice. I know this tone. I've used it myself. A lot. To Katie, it is clear that my problem with the situation is that I don't understand the importance of her work. Because someday NASA may call to say that the space shuttle is disabled and all they have to repair it is some Disney Princess toothpaste, Coconut Monkey shampoo and three q-tips. Katie will whip up a solution McGuyver style and the astronauts will be saved. "Both of you, into bed and you are cleaning this up in the morning!" "Mooooooooooooom!!!" "Now!"