Cieran the Scientist

It's official: Cieran is going to be a scientist. Either an astronomer or a meteorologist, or possibly a philosopher.

With hindsight, the signs were there all along. Cieran has been fascinated with the sun, the moon, the stars, planets, clouds, rain, and anything else to be found in the heavens. I remember several occasions recently when the three of us were out driving in the car and a little voice piped up `Moon!'. At this point, Linds and I would invariably explain to little Cieran that the Moon wasn't visible just now due to intervening clouds, or trees, or because it was simply the wrong time of day. Inevitably, moments later, one of us would spy a watery Moon peaking out from behind a cloudbank and we would have to concede that junior had been right all along.

Of course, Cieran loves all the usual things for a boy of his age. He is passionately devoted to cars, trains, planes and every other kind of machine that moves. He can readily name and identify just about every kind of truck and excavating machine ever invented. But we had hoped that when he moves on to other things in life, as he surely will, the artist in him will come to the fore---after all, three of his grandparents are a musician, a librarian, and a journalist. Failing that, we would be very happy if Cieran becomes a plumber, say, or a mechanic, or any other useful member of society, but please not a lawyer.

None of that matters now. Cieran is clearly destined to be a scientist. How can I be so sure. Well I will relate to you a little tale that makes it seem all but certain. First though, I must provide some context. I have a theory, developed after years of careful observation, that there are three stages in childhood. To be succinct, these can be characterized as the `No, no, no' stage, followed by the `Why, why, why' stage, and finally the `Go to hell old man' stage. Every child passes through some variant of these, the only difference being when each stage begins and how long it lasts.

Cieran discovered `No' at an early age, thanks to that most seditious of children's television programmes `The Teletubbies' (curse you Tinky-Winky and all your colourful ilk). As every parent knows, the word `No' is a dreadful weapon in the hands of a toddler who knows how to use it, second only to the terrifying utterance `Again, Daddy. Again.' Cieran has used `No' extensively for many months now, generally combining it contorted facial expressions or a hearty stomp of the foot to add emphasis.

By now, it seems, Cieran has perfected the art of `No'. But he is still only two and a quarter. Surely, it will be years yet before he embarks on stage two, the `why, why, why' stage of life.

Earlier today, as Linds sat working on her laptop, Cieran was busy with his crayons drawing loops and swirls and colourful patterns, an abstract art that only he can interpret. After a while, he stood up and turned to face Linds.

``Why is the sky blue, Mommy?''

``What?'' said Linds, clearly taken aback.

``The sky, Mommy, it's blue. Why is the sky blue?''

``Well, erm...'' Linds paused for a long moment, dredging up some long-discarded memories from old physics classes.

``Well, sweetie, it's like this.'' she said, embarking on a detailed explanation of the Planck curve, photon mean free paths, and Rayleigh scattering.

Cieran listened, attentively at first, but eventually it seemed he was not entirely satisfied with the explanation.

``The sky is blue, Mommy. The sky is blue.''

His mind began to wander and he moved on to other things, upending a tub of lego and rummaging through the pieces. The conundrum went unresolved, at least for now. But is was obvious that at the tender age of two and a quarter, Cieran had embarked on stage two of life. A new scientific mind was awakening, and Cieran was set to follow his parents into a lifetime of Nerdom.

Now, I can't help thinking it's only a matter of time before Cieran asks ``Why is the sky pink on Mars, Mommy. Why?''

``Well, erm...''