The Clumsy Interloper

On Tuesday Eva and Sybbie had their annual well-visits at Northridge Pediatrics. The girls spent the first 20 minutes crawling across the padded table while the nurse, dressed in pink and purple scrubs and glittering Crocs, asked a battery of questions of the parents. Every so often the girls would perk up from their game of “queen of the check-up table” and attempt to answer a question about their diet or sleeping habits, usually with inaccurate hyperbole. Their contributions were usually met with a chuckle from both parents and a knowing smile from the nurse.

The walls of the exam room were festooned with realistic dinosaurs stickers accompanied with their names scrawled in tight relief along their tails. The girls picked their favorites in secret, then had us guess which dinos caught their fancy. Sybbie liked the triceratops, Eva the T. Rex. There was a silhouette of an astronaut near the window and information about the Apollo space missions. This spurred a brief conversation about the Artemis II trip to the moon currently underway.

Finally Dr. Quillian entered and began the formal inspections of the girls. We talked about Eva’s ADHD medication and Sybbie’s hearing test. The girls took turns showing Dr. Quillian all the scratches and bruises they have amassed recently from the playground and the origin of each contusion, if known. Rib cages were gently prodded, vitals were reviewed and relief shared when she assured them that no shots would be administered. Then something delightfully unexpected happened:

Doctor Quillian, to Sybbie: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Sybbie: “A Scientist!”

When I was 5 years old my aspirational vocations were magician, veterinarian and cartoonist. Later I would refine my list to include basketball player and video game engineer. It wasn’t that I truly believed I was destined for these things, but I understood as a child you needed stock answers to certain hypotheticals, and these answers seemed to satisfy adults.

When I heard Sybbie beam ‘A Scientist!’ there was no doubt in my mind that she meant it. She has an ornithological bent, shouting in glee when a flock of birds catches her eye. She possesses an inquisitive mind that navigates elevated scientific concepts like a mountain climber searching for a suitable foothold. She finds her comfortable level and digs in. I love how she categorizes the natural world and the constructed ones alike (see: Pokemon). She quizzes me about birds, planets and how many legs different bugs have.

Recently I have been reading Andy Weir novels and watching a fair amount of space videos on YouTube with the girls. During our last Friday night movie know, I hickjacked the Disney algorithm and put on The Martian. Both girls, to their credit, locked into the movie and began peppering me with insightful questions. Eva even gushed, “Dad, that was the best movie I’ve ever seen!”

During a recent car ride to school the audiobook for Project Hail Mary came on automatically when the car started up. In similar situations, my “boring podcasts” usually get shouted down with both girls dramatically sticking fingers in their ears until pop music quells their protests. However, upon hearing Ray Porter’s narration of Rocky and Grace’s scientific repartee, they were instantly transfixed. We drove for minutes without a sound from the backseat.

I don’t know what the future holds for this world. The wanton dismissal of scientific advice in public policy has led us to a dark place. I have a flickering hope that we can still adjust course – that our differences can be modulated with the grounded lens of science and our shared biology.

For this to take root, it will take a scientifically literate and engaged generation that succeeds us. I hope Sybbie’s declaration is less a token response and rather a notch in the column for truth, reason and discovery.

To quote Rocky, “Amaze! Amaze! Amaze!”