We are deep in the throes of Science Fair madness chez nous. In some local households, that would qualify as a trifling matter to mention, on a par with "We're eating breakfast again today." Those are the households where the parents are scientists. Or doctors. Engineers.
Alas my poor boys are reliant on the assistance of yours truly --- unqualified, head-in-the-clouds, user of words like kablillion and squee and Germalian me.
And so I've utilized my strongest skills to help; to wit, I've spent the last two days shopping for the items my children need to sound vaguely scholarly (i.e. like they're adopted).
The oldest is doing a highly algebraic procedure involving glasses of water and a chromatic tuner. The only things he really needed to acquire were eight completely different glass drinking glasses. We had two, and I found six more at the Dollar Store, easy-peasy, and he can do his on his own thus forth.
(I should note, however, that this year marks the first that I'm not worried about anything exploding. Or anydog.)
The youngest, though.
Suffice it to say I am busy constructing a rather oversize outdoor slingshot. Phonophotos tomorrow, hopefully.