"Colton, your hand smells good. What is on it?" said Nate while putting Colton in bed.
"Dopamine!" Colton said. His hand proudly raised in the air.
"Are you serious? How did you get dopamine on your hand?" Dad asked with laughter brewing in his neuroscientist tummy.
"Don't know," said Colton, his eyebrows wrinkled in deep thought.
"So, what is on your hand?" Dad asked again.
"Dopamine," Replied the somewhat puzzled Colton.
"Alright then. Glad your hand smells like dopamine. Can you say the word monosaccharide?" Dad says while rolling onto his back, a smile the size of Texas stamped across his face, and his forearm draped against his forehead.
"Monnosaccaride" Colton responds, his syllables as clear as a whistle.
"Great. How about norepinephrine?" Dad says as I kiss Colton on the forehead and walk away.
Fathers and sons typically bond with fishing poles, soccer balls, and football games.
Colton and Nate?
They bond with biochemistry.
No comments:
Post a Comment