From the column this week:

Getting out early in the morning is pretty tough for our family. We were all surprised a couple weeks ago when we were ready to go to church with time to spare. I loaded up the van and stopped at the donut shop.

It was a beautiful morning right up until the woman in front of me asked if I was out with my grandchildren. My pride wounded, we carted our selections to the van and headed to the park. As the kids munched their chosen sweets, I took the opportunity to start a science lesson.

“A scientist forms a hypothesis in order to prove something,” I told the kids. They were sitting together, the empty pink donut box sitting between them. “Each of you was a scientist this morning.”

The children munched their donuts and considered this statement. “How are we scientists?” one of them asked. It was exactly the opening I was waiting for.

“When we went to the donut shop this morning, each of you picked a donut you liked. Sophia picked an apple fritter. Max picked jelly-filled. Olivia and Bella picked cinnamon rolls. You all made your own hypothesis. That is like a guess. You wanted to have the best donut of all, so you guessed which one would be your favorite.”

There was a brief discussion of the various merits of each type of donut. My hypothesis was confirmed: The most important factor in choosing a donut was size.

Textbook explanations of science offer up discussions of breeding pea plants for recessive traits and figuring out how to breed for desired characteristics. As scintillating a read as that may be, we like a more hands-on approach. Donuts are definitely hands on.

“Now, in order to test your hypothesis, you need to taste other kinds of donuts,” I told them. “If you really want to know which donut is the best, you would have to try every donut in the whole donut shop just to see for sure which you like the best. Then you would know for sure.” Their eyes widened as they pondered the possibilities of trying every type of donut in the case.

Devoted now to the pursuit of scientific discovery, the kids started pinching off parts of their pastries. They began mixing, matching and sharing with siblings as I continued. “Now you are testing your hypothesis. When you try the other kinds, you make a decision about which donut you like the best.”

Over the next few days, the kids came to me with various proposals for scientific exploration. “I’ve got a hypothesis,” they’d say as each request was presented and considered. More gum would make them happy; fewer chores would have a similar effect. I felt a sense of satisfaction that the lesson had stuck. I could tell that future trips to the donut shop might lead to trying new things. Every day presents an opportunity to learn.

So if you see me in the donut shop early in the morning, understand that I’m only there to help my children with their research. Grab a fritter or a custard-filled donut and start an experiment of your own. Even science can be sweet.

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