Feeding the sponge
I had a visitor yesterday.
There was a knock on the door and in walked Granddaughter the Elder and Grandson the Younger. The former however waited just long enough to say Howya before disappearing again.
Grandson the Younger [I’ll call him Tom for the sake of anonymity, it’s easier to type and because it’s his name anyway] is a strange child. He has a bit of a rough life because Granddaughter the Elder just ignores him, Granddaughter the Younger just pisses him off and he just thinks differently from either of them As a result he tends to be very quiet and withdrawn.
When he visits here he is completely different. In fact it’s quite difficult to shut him up. Having arrived, he nipped up to the attic to say Hi to his Granny and then announced that he had to go down again as it was Grandad he came to see.
Now Tom is quite a kid for the knowledge. He wants to know just about everything about – well – everything. He never stops asking questions and obviously thinks I am the font of all knowledge.
We talked about languages, in particular Irish, English, French and Latin. He wanted to know the difference between Carbon Monoxide and Carbon Dioxide which fortunately was easy enough as on a previous occasion our topics included atoms and molecules. So he could understand the difference between the two molecules but not why one was inert and the other deadly just because of one Oxygen atom . That was one of the questions I had to pass on. He wanted to know what was underneath the sand on a beach which led to a long discussion on the Earth’s crust and what the world would look like if all the oceans were drained. He had never heard of boarding schools and wanted to know all about them [he wrinkled his face is disbelief when I said the pupils lived at the school all term] and did I have any way of skipping advertisements on television.
He is a dry sponge soaking up knowledge. He wants to know all but won’t let a topic pass until he understands it.
He was here for a couple of hours or more before suddenly announcing “I’m bored. Can I go home now?”.
I gave him a lift home.
He reminds me a bit of myself at that age.
The carbon monoxide thing – for next time Tom visits … the carbon monoxide molecule is very similar in shape to the oxygen (2 atom) molecule. Both bind to haemoglobin. Oxygen binds just strongly enough to be carried to tissues in oxygen deficit where the oxygen unbinds and enters cells to work its oxidative magic. Carbon monoxide binds very strongly to haemoglobin and just won’t let go. When you’ve inhaled enough carbon monoxide, your haemoglobin is no longer available to do its transportation trick. Goodnight.
Carbon monoxide gives your cheeks a lovely cherry red colour, you start acting drunk and it’s goodnight Vienna.
Carbon dioxide has little effect until the concentration gets above 8% or so, then the stonking headaches begin. Current concentration is about 0.04%.
That’s the kind of sponge I wouldn’t mind helping at all. The problem is that I’ve forgotten just about everything I’ve ever learned except the vaguest of details. Like 2+2 = 4. Except in politics. The it’s like 2+2 = around 4 or so–subject to change of course.
When I ask my accountant “What’s 2 + 2?”, he’ll reply “What answer did you have in mind”. Useful chap.
Yeah, I guess.
This resonated. My 14 yr old grandson thinks I have all the answers and I can speak every language etc etc. One day I’ll tell him he reminds me so very very much of me at his age BUT not yet. I don’t want to p*ss him off and/or dare spoil the relationship.