Oxidizing

Back when I first joined the herd, we were quite interested in cottaging. We, as a group, had been camping a few times and had purchased a pair of Sea-Doos for summer entertainment, and a place to dock them on our own stretch of shore on one of the myriad of small lakes in Central Alberta had a certain appeal. As a result, we tried out a couple of cottages one summer before we settled on one we liked.



During one of these try-out weekends - as it turns out, in a cottage we chose not to purchase - we were all - me and my wife, her sister and husband, the girls' dad, and the three older boys - sitting around the campfire s'moring it up.


Kid 2, then about 8, is looking a the campfire and asks "how does wood burn?"


Now, that's a pretty good question. Unfortunately, I have enough background in chemistry to know exactly what the answer is. So, in a roundabout way, I figure I just have to tailor that for an eight-year-old kid.


As it turns out, I appear to have a propensity to explain into minutiae. Not only that, but my delving into a subject apparently has an effect on local space-time, in which it appears to tear a rift in the fabric of reality such that the only person who does not experience the passage of time is me.


So in a moment or two I look around to a sea of glazed expressions, and the chirping of crickets.


To this day, I don't remember what the hell I said. I do know I started with an analogy regarding rust. But the end result is if I can't dial down an explanation into one or two sentences, my lovely wife tells me "Honey, you're Oxidizing."


I have learned from this. Now when faced with a complex answer for a kid - I say "It's complicated. I can tell you but it will take a few minutes." and let them decide it they have the attention span. They buy in to the time more often than you'd think.


For grown ups, I say "You want the Reader's Digest version?" to which I invariably get a yes... and then get grilled in to the minutiae I tried to avoid anyway.


We sure enjoyed those Sea Doos.