Ian and I love browsing YouTube. Apart from old clips of The Muppet Show, Sesame Street, and addictive ear-worms (thanks a lot, Mike), there’s a plethora of neat, sciencey, Mr. Wizardesque videos. Like singing Tesla coils.

For a kid who’s terrified of ‘funderstorms’, Ian sure loves lightning. We watched this video—and others like it—several times, and he keeps asking to see it again. And again. I haven’t obliged because the last thing I want to do after work is come home and spend more time in front of a computer.

He will not be deterred.

Last night we played with Lincoln Logs: walls, barns, houses. I slipped away to read after Ian destroyed Fort Parallelogram. A few minutes later, he shouted across the room to get my attention. ‘Daddy, look!’

He’d built two tall towers of Lincoln Logs, each about one foot high. ‘See, the mans and women go through this door even though they shouldn’t ’cause it’s dangerous and the lightning will get them!’

Son, I don’t care how smart you are, or how strong your aspirations to become a renowned scientician. We will never—ever—have a Tesla coil in our backyard.