1 Mother 2 Another

Yesterday Brian and I took the girls to a
children’s science and technology museum for the afternoon.
We had a great time learning about friction with bumper car models
and spinning on a top to bring the idea of centripetal force home.
Brian and Maddie had just finished building a very nice Lego house
and we were all meandering our way back out the door when a staff
member approached me and said, “Excuse me, our dissection of
a cow’s eyeball is going to begin in two minutes if your
daughters would like to come watch.”


I looked at Brian. He looked at me. I took anatomy and did more
than my fair share of dissecting so I was happy to go splash around
in to some vitreous humors, but what would the girls think?

“Hey, girls, do you want to go see a
cow’s eyeball being taken apart so you can see what it looks
like inside?”


The girls looked at each other.


“Yes!”


Maddie and Cora sat up front and, though their faces were hesitant
when the man opened up a gallon bucket of cows’ eyeballs and
the scent of formaldehyde wafted towards them, a few minutes into
it they were incredibly engrossed. “What’s the black
hole in the middle of your eyes?” the lecturer asked the
kids.


Maddie waved her hand in the air. “Pupil!” she cried
happily, and then beamed at everyone.


Both girls seemed to enjoy it, even when the, um, eye juice came
dribbling/squirting out in an arc. And at the end of the dissection
when all the different parts were laid out on a tray neatly, both
girls donned surgical gloves and picked up all the parts to get a
good feel. I was very proud.


I think my favorite moment of the dissection actually came not from
my girls, but from a little two-year-old boy sitting in the back
with his dad. He watched the dissection in silence for a few
minutes, then turned to his dad and said, “Dad, why
didn’t the cow need his eye any more?”


Dad squirmed uncomfortably and said, “Well, he just
doesn’t need to see now.”


I do think the grown-ups were more uncomfortable than the kids.