When our first-grader decided we should attend her school's science and technology fair, I was thrilled. But, as we walked the gymnasium floor, looking at the seventh- and eighth-graders' science projects, all I could think was that I had to wait six years before I would get to…I mean, my daughter would get to create a science project of her own.
Each of the displays we viewed used the scientific method to investigate a burning question. For instance, “Why does cereal get soggy when you add milk?”
Next a hypothesis was stated — a possible answer to the question: “Cereal gets soggy when you use milk because the manufacturers sprinkle a milk-activated chemical onto each flake that soggifies it, causing you to empty your bowl in the sink and buy more of their product.”
The student then created an experiment to test his hypothesis: “Because I don't have the lab equipment to analyze cereal, I plan to break into the corporate headquarters of a major cereal company and rifle through files until I find incriminating memos.”
Supporting research was documented, if available: “It's unlikely that supporting evidence is available, since it is widely known that the powerful Dry Cereal Cartel intimidates scientists into destroying their research findings.”
Finally, the results of the experiment and the conclusion were provided: “My parents wouldn't buy me infrared night-vision goggles and a plane ticket to Battle-Creek, Michigan, so I was unable to penetrate corporate headquarters and steal evidence. I have provided a bowl of Rice Krispies and milk as a display of my hard work.”
The soggy cereal science project received a blue ribbon, not because of great new scientific discovery, but because the student had solicited and received a $1 million government grant to continue his research.
Inspired by this student's spirit of inquiry, I decided to use the scientific method to investigate one of the unsolved mysteries of our home: “How is it that when my underwear drawer is almost empty, new underwear appears?”
My hypothesis: Underwear can spontaneously regenerate, if kept in a dark drawer.
Experiment: For three weeks I took an underwear census each morning. I charted the growth and decline of the underwear population in my drawer.
Data analysis: Each Tuesday, there was only one tee-shirt and one pair of boxer shorts in the drawer. Each Wednesday morning, there were eight pairs of each — a new litter of beautiful, white cotton underclothes. (Warning: These results are only pertinent to boxer shorts and cannot be extrapolated to briefs without further study.)
Conclusion: After the first three weeks of data, I was ready to conclude that underwear can spontaneously regenerate in a dark drawer. Then, in the fourth week, I found a pile or clean underwear in a laundry basket, next to my bureau. Since the clean laundry was outside the drawer, it could only mean one thing: it isn't spontaneous generation but rather a multiplication miracle — similar to Jesus and the loaves and fishes — that keeps my underwear in stock. If God can feed 5,000 people with five loaves and two fish, it must be a piece of cake for Him to keep my drawer full.
I can't wait to tell my wife.
Tim Bete (pronounced “beet”) is married with three children. He has nine combined years as a dad — 63 in dog years — which makes him an expert at answering the questions, “Are we there yet?” and “Why?” To subscribe to Tim’s column or read more of his work, visit his website at www.timbete.com.
