I stumbled home from dance class to find father and son in the backyard, entrenched in a science project. Back in the day, such a dicey endeavor would've involved yelling, door slamming and "fine, figure it out yourself." But not on this day of the Solar Eclipse. On this day, father and son were united in their cause to view the eclipse via the ol' Pinhole Projection technique. Of course, I didn't know that at first, so when I found them holding up two sheets of paper, and staring intently at nothing, I thought they'd joined some secret recycling cult while I was away. "What the eff are you doing?" I asked. "Watching the solar eclipse," the eldest explained. "Really? How's the barbecue going?" "We haven't cooked anything yet," hubby said. My tummy growled. I was still on NYC time. "Show me, show me," I demanded. And there, courtesy of a pinhole, I saw the teeny-tiny crescent silhouette of the slowing emerging solar eclipse. "Very cool," I said, trying to drum up enthusiasm, but just between us, I was underwhelmed. This morning's solar eclipse images, courtesy of news orgs and zillions of crazed eclipse worshippers, were far cooler than what hubby and the eldest offered up, instead of grilled chicken. But don't tell them that. They thought they were onto something awesome out there in the backyard, and who am I to deny them their moment of Zen?
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