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February 04, 2005
Blinding Myself with Science
Recently my husband and I took the Bean to the Pacific Science Center. When I was a kid growing up on Cape Cod, MA, one of the highlights of my young life was packing into my dad's custom van and heading up to Boston to the Museum of Science. That is the Mack Daddy of science centers, with (I think) the country's first IMAX theater, baby chicks hatching in a giant, egg-shaped warmer (you could pet them when they were out!), wave machines, static electricity exhibits, dinosaur bones (T-Rex!!) and my favorite: teeny tiny embryos frozen in plastic wombs in the "Cycle of Life" section.
Dammit did I love me some science as a kid, I think due largely to my brother's subscription to Ranger Rick magazine and the fact that we grew up about four steps from the ocean with its endless source of creatures to be caught, analyzed, and carefully released back into the wild. One difference between girl scientists and boy scientists, at least from my own experience: there's a lot less creature death involved when girls are at the helm. However, the same beloved uncle (a teacher; sneaky liberal smartypants!) who got my brother his subscription also got me Cricket, the literary magazine for children, causing me to climb trees and read haiku, short stories and Shel Silverstein in my leafy perch for hours. Thus my fate as an MFA-holding, mommy-blogging* corporate shill was solidified. The uncle himself had a subscription to, ahem, Playboy, so my brother and I also got our introduction to biology thanks to him. Let's hear it for a well-rounded education!
*There's been a lot of brouha in the blogging community recently about mommy-blogging and so, for the record, I would just like to make my stance on the issue clear: who freaking cares what people think. Thank you.
Back to the business of blogging. So we took the Bean to the science center where he played with the water table, checked out animatronic dinosaurs, and bugged out in the insect display. As we were leaving the insect display, my husband, who is usually of the same opinion as me on issues related to child-rearing, says "You know, when the Bean gets older, we should get him a stick insect as a pet." And I am like "Are you fricking kidding me? A stick insect?! Who the hell wants one of those in their house?" He went on to try and convince me how cool they were, and his final line of reasoning went a little something like this "...and they breed really frequently." And I'm like DUDE! If I wanted to watch stick insects breed, I'd check out the Paris Hilton porno movie! Using stick insects' frequent mating habits as a selling point is akin to telling me that tarantulas also make good pets because once a month all their hair falls off and lands in your eyes and mouth.
I told my friend P. from work this story expecting a little "He so crazy" girl-bonding moment and she said "I like stick insects, they're cool. They look like sticks."
Friends, insect fans, would-be scientists and mommybloggers: if I wanted something that looked like a stick, I would get a stick.
Posted by Max at February 4, 2005 12:33 AM