Sometimes one has to jump in and act contrary to one's staid and dependable logic. This time it has to do with the solar eclipse. I bought solar eclipse viewing glasses for both Tony and myself, and then I thought to ask my children if they'd purchased theirs. The responses were just like their personalities: wide ranging.
I call the first daughter and when she answers, I jubilantly ask,
"Did you buy your solar eclipse glasses?"
There is a pregnant pause, as if she's afraid to disappoint me or she's unsure if she's going to get in trouble, or it's the pause as if she's contemplating whether she should fib to her mother.
The truth is revealed, "Is it horrible that I don't even care?" she says.
"Well of course not," but then I think how horrible it really will be because her precocious five year old would have been a ball of curiosity. He sucks this science stuff up like a vacuum. I silently hope he's in preschool during the eclipse and that his preschool thought ahead to buy wee-little glasses for everyone.
I texted the second daughter with children, to ask if she'd purchased her solar eclipse glasses, and even suggested a place close to her home where she could get them. She texts back, No I haven't, will you get some for us too?
I am nowhere near the place, so she's on her own. After a morning search, she comes up empty handed -everyone is sold out. The only vendors are facebook profiteers selling my $2 paper glasses for $90.
I then get a text from a friend: Where did you get your eclipse glasses? Everyone seems to be in a last minute frenzy. Time to sleuth.
I look for the manufacturer of my NASA approved glasses, find their website, send it to my daughter. The only way to get glasses is to order 50 at $4.00 and pay $60 in overnight shipping.
"Do it," I say.
By evening, we've found takers for every single pair of extra glasses.
~~
I suspect that after the two or three minute phenomena, we will look at each other and say, "Well that was much ado about nothing."
When the Olympics came to Salt Lake City in 2002, my nine year old pestered me to get tickets. It was way past the time to be lucky enough to buy tickets for ice skating or opening ceremonies. We, however, were blessed with women's hockey. So un-notable was the match, I don't even remember the teams.
She anticipated attending the Olympics with great fervor, but before the game made it to half time, my little one wanted to leave. The game fell far short of the build-up of attending the Olympics!!
"Could you just make it to halftime?" I pleaded. Her historic moment should at least include a bit of sacrifice. She agreed to stay, but she watched the clock. As the clock wound down to half time, her little mind perfectly processed how hype doesn't always equal reality. The slogan of the 21st Olympiad was Light the Fire Within. When the buzzer sounded, she turned to me and said with a mocking lack of enthusiasm, "Light the fire within. Can we go now?"
~~
I call the first daughter and when she answers, I jubilantly ask,
"Did you buy your solar eclipse glasses?"
There is a pregnant pause, as if she's afraid to disappoint me or she's unsure if she's going to get in trouble, or it's the pause as if she's contemplating whether she should fib to her mother.
The truth is revealed, "Is it horrible that I don't even care?" she says.
"Well of course not," but then I think how horrible it really will be because her precocious five year old would have been a ball of curiosity. He sucks this science stuff up like a vacuum. I silently hope he's in preschool during the eclipse and that his preschool thought ahead to buy wee-little glasses for everyone.
I texted the second daughter with children, to ask if she'd purchased her solar eclipse glasses, and even suggested a place close to her home where she could get them. She texts back, No I haven't, will you get some for us too?
I am nowhere near the place, so she's on her own. After a morning search, she comes up empty handed -everyone is sold out. The only vendors are facebook profiteers selling my $2 paper glasses for $90.
I then get a text from a friend: Where did you get your eclipse glasses? Everyone seems to be in a last minute frenzy. Time to sleuth.
I look for the manufacturer of my NASA approved glasses, find their website, send it to my daughter. The only way to get glasses is to order 50 at $4.00 and pay $60 in overnight shipping.
"Do it," I say.
By evening, we've found takers for every single pair of extra glasses.
~~
I suspect that after the two or three minute phenomena, we will look at each other and say, "Well that was much ado about nothing."
When the Olympics came to Salt Lake City in 2002, my nine year old pestered me to get tickets. It was way past the time to be lucky enough to buy tickets for ice skating or opening ceremonies. We, however, were blessed with women's hockey. So un-notable was the match, I don't even remember the teams.
She anticipated attending the Olympics with great fervor, but before the game made it to half time, my little one wanted to leave. The game fell far short of the build-up of attending the Olympics!!
"Could you just make it to halftime?" I pleaded. Her historic moment should at least include a bit of sacrifice. She agreed to stay, but she watched the clock. As the clock wound down to half time, her little mind perfectly processed how hype doesn't always equal reality. The slogan of the 21st Olympiad was Light the Fire Within. When the buzzer sounded, she turned to me and said with a mocking lack of enthusiasm, "Light the fire within. Can we go now?"
~~
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