The egg is the mosquito bite of the pun world. You know that you should NOT scratch that itch. You know that it will only bring more pain, but you cannot help yourself. You cannot.
This is only “eggsacerbated” in the presence of young men.
As a homeschooler though, I consider it a triumph, to have exercised their culinary/homemaking skills, creative thinking muscles, the literary portions of their brains, and to have thrown in a little physics to boot. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
And it all started with a pot full of boiled eggs. Actually, truth be told, it started with a picky eater.
I decided to appeal to his love off all things culinary (not the eating, mind you, only the making) and his undying devotion to anything in the shape of a fish.
Eggs were boiled and then he was taught to peel them. He found this enthralling.
Then, we tried out our new Japanese egg molds, including the beloved fish one.
He was mesmerized, but alas, not persuaded to actually EAT the egg, only to carry the stinking thing around in his pocket for half the day.
With the remaining egg, I decided to show my older guys the precisely ONE “magic” trick that I know.
You get yourself a glass bottle whose opening is just slightly smaller than your boiled egg, so that it will sit on top, but not go all the way in. Then, you put two, lit, wooden matches in the bottle, and place the egg on top. The matches use up all the available oxygen, creating a vacuum, which sucks the egg into the bottle.
An “eggsperiment,” I told them. Ha ha. This set off several minutes of of “Eggciting” “Eggsit” “Eggsist”… I tried to throw in “eggsonerate,” and “eggsuberant,” but they just looked at me in that “poor, sweet, dorky, Mom.” way that I so often get.
They were still at it, as I lit the matches and plopped the egg on. They watched, in awe, as the fire went out, and the egg began to descend. I felt very proud, having brought them all face to face with the wonder of science, until one of them said, “wow! It’s like a backwards poop!”
The uncontrollable laughter, continued bathroom humor, besprinkled with bad egg puns was too much for me.
I told them to go play their video games, already, and leave me to my book.
I’m wondering, truly, who it is that is getting schooled around here.