It was just after dinner, nearly two hours ago, when Jilly-bean asked if Megs and I would listen to her STEM-tastic project pitch. We're good parents. Of course, we said "yes." 

Wait a minute. Are we good parents? 

I'm talking about a kid who is currently suspended from school. Despite that blemish on our record, I'm gonna confidently say, yes, we are good parents. I mean Jillian doesn't belong to a gang or anything like that. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have a gun or meth stashed in her room. Not that I know of.

An hour later Megs calls upstairs, "Jillian. You want to practice your pitch?"

"Okay," she replies from her room.

Finally, at 7:34, Jillian enters the living room where her mother and I are patiently waiting. Megan is far more patient than I am. 

Jilly-bean holds a short stack of note cards in her little hand. "You guys ready?" she asks. 

"We've been ready," I reply with a sigh, which draws a nasty look from Megs.

"Okay. I'm Jillian Robiski and my STEM-tastic project is called "Let's Talk About Lawn Care." She pauses for a moment. "I'm still not sure about that name."

"I think it's good," says Megs.

I nod in agreement.

"Anyway, as you can see, here are two lawns." She gestures to two imaginary terrariums. "The first one has chemicals sprayed on it all the time to kill weeds, and clover, and stuff like that. But it's also killing all the creatures that live in the ground."

She refers to her note cards. 

"The second one never got sprayed by chemicals. The grass doesn't look as good and there are some weeds but look. There are earthworms that make the soil better, ladybugs and spiders that eat all kinds of bad insects. And if we were outside, you would see bees and other pollinators on the clover. I'm not sure how to say that part."

"Pollinators," says Megs. "I like that."

"Oh, and I forgot about birds." Jilly-bean's brow furrows. "Do you know how many kinds of birds are going extinct because they're being poisoned by our lawn and farm chemicals?"

"That's terrible," her mom replies.

She reads from her notecard. "The chemical lawn kills all these creatures just so you can have thick green grass. Some of these chemicals have caused horrible diseases like cancer in dogs and even in kids. Is that really your idea of caring? That's sad if you care more about your grass than you do about your dogs, your kids, and the environment."

There's a moment of apprehension.

"Wow," I say uncomfortably. "There's a lot of information there."

She reads the concerned expression on her mother's pretty face. "What's wrong?"

Megan says, "Maybe you could work on making the ending not so..."

"Not so what?"

"Maybe you can just say that people and pets have gotten sick from lawn chemicals. Maybe leave out the part about cancer."

"But it's true. There are a couple of different kinds of cancers that people and pets can get from those chemicals. This is really scary."

"I hope it's not too scary for the science fair."

"But science is scary."

                                                                                               #######

Shortly after 9:30, I shut down my computer, stretch out my arms and arch my back. I need to be more mindful of my poor posture while at my Mac. My neck is killing me. I've spent the past few hours nailing down Aunt Betsy's Homemade Donuts' company's strategic positioning and thought about the roll-out plan for the mini pastries. I cringe when I think of the "clever" names Saucy Cat Creative is busy formulating. 

I walk down the hallway toward my daughter's room where I can see that her light is still on in. I peek in and find her lying in bed reading her note cards.

"Lights out, kid."

"Okay."

"I think you're doing a great job on your presentation."

"You're just saying that because you're my Dad."

"If you were some strange little science nerd that I didn't even know, and I watched your presentation, I'd say "Wow, that kid is pretty amazing. But strange."

I kiss her on the forehead.

"Dad? Be real with me."

"I'm always real with you."

She rolls her eyes.

"Well, almost always."

"So, okay. This is probably like the little kids' hand Thanksgiving turkey drawing, right?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, let's be honest. They probably don't want real serious science. They probably want some cute kid project, don't they?"

"Well, you know what STEM stands for, right?"

"Science, technology, engineering, and math."

"Right. When I was a kid, science and engineering and all that was just for boys. You didn't see girls working in those fields. And now, I mean, look at Mom. She's a programmer. She's all about math and science."

"What does she do at work, anyway?"

"I'm not really sure. I know it's something about computer software."

"Okay, but you're not answering my question."

"I don't think you should worry about doing some cute little kid project. You're already cute and you're already a little kid."

"Dad!"

"Keep doing what you're doing. But you should probably take Mom's advice. Your project should be about providing information. Not about yelling at people and making them feel sad or bad about themselves."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Anyway, you need to get some sleep. Back to school tomorrow."

"I need to submit my pitch."

"When's the deadline?"

"Midnight."

"Tonight?"

She nods, then slides lower under her covers.

"You mean like in two and a half hours?

She pulls the covers over her head.

"Jillian, why didn't you say something before now?"

I can see her shrug beneath the blanket.

"Well, did you rework the ending of your pitch?"

Her head emerges from her cover.

"Yeah. I said that people should think about what they're putting on their lawns. They should do some research and I even gave a few links to places like the EPA and some other science places."

"Why do you always wait til the last minute for your school projects?" 

"I'm just a kid."

I sigh.

She sits up. "You can just do the video on your phone and then we can post it on the application page."

"Okay." I grit my teeth. "I'll get your terrariums. In the meantime, brush your hair and put on a nicer shirt."

"Okay."

I go downstairs and, as I pass the living room, I hear Megan laughing.

"What are you watching?"

I see a news broadcast on television.

"You're not gonna believe this. Someone on the President's staff claims that the evacuation of Utah had nothing to do with using the state as a trash collection site and as an internment camp for enemy combatants. I probably shouldn't be laughing, but..."

"Who is this guy?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure he's fired."

"So what was the real reason for the evacuation?"

"The guy said the President doesn't like Mormons."

"What?"

Meg chuckles. "Apparently when the President was at prep school when he was a teenager, his girlfriend left him for a guy who turned out to be Mormon."

"No way."

She laughs. "That's what he just said. She was a beauty pageant contestant or Miss Hollyhock or something that required wearing a bikini with high heels. And a sash, of course."

I love this woman's sense of humor.

The President appears on camera.

"Turn it up."

Megs raises the volume with the remote.

The President huffs. "This is a lot of bull. I never said I don't like Mormons. Never said it. I mean, being a Christian man, I'm not a big fan of a religion that plays fast and loose with the Bible, but I think Mormons have a right to believe whatever mumbo-jumbo they want to believe. Me, I'm a very religious man who loves the Bible. Read it all the time."

They cut away to the news anchor who says, "When asked to quote his favorite scripture the President replied, "Oh, little town of Bethlehem, how will we see thee thrive?"

Megs and I crack up.