Reid brought a leaf and a rock in from the driveway last night. She said that we needed them because we were scientists. I was cooking supper – I’m the principle human nutrition scientist in the family – and Reid was playing in the hall. All of a sudden, she started crying and Ken went to see what had happened.
Between sobs, Reid explained that the rock had hit in her in the chin. Ken, naturally, asked how the rock had gotten to her chin. Haltingly, the story came out:
Reid: I had the rock on my feet and I moved them and it hit my chin.
Reid: I had the rock on my feet and I moved them and it hit my chin. (Clearly not seeing anything unusual in her statement)
Me: She was lying on her back.
Reid: I was lying down and my legs were up and the rock was on my feet. Then, I forgot about the rock and moved my feet and the rock hit my chin.
Me: (Laughing in the kitchen, but quietly. How glad I was that Ken was the one dealing directly with Reid!)
Ken: So, you’re saying that you were holding a rock above your head and it hit your face when you moved your feet. (Ken likes to try to teach Reid logic whenever he can to counterbalance the unpredictableness of life with me.)
I’d thought that Reid would be learning about the natural sciences of botany or geology with her leaf and rock but it turned out to be physics on the course schedule.