There was no way we were going outside that day. It wasn’t just cold or rainy or windy — it was a sideways, freezing rain kind of day.
I love storms. I could rest my chin in my hand and watch nature’s fury for hours. My grandson was captivated too, at least for a while. But eventually, the conversation faded, and the idea of curling up under a blanket with a show began to sound appealing.
With him staying the day and night, I knew a show later would be just fine. But the day was only beginning.
“Let’s invent something,” I suggested.
“Like what?” he asked.
“I don’t know… let’s build a laboratory out of your Lego and see what we feel like inventing.”
That was all it took.
We set up on the mat, gathered the bin, and got to work. My dog, Dexter, saw this as an open invitation and promptly flopped himself across the middle of our workspace.
“Dexter!”
“That’s okay,” I laughed. “We can build around him.”
A fully flopped Basset Hound takes up a surprising amount of room, but eventually, realizing snacks were not involved, he returned to his bed and the laboratory construction began.
We built walls, rooms, benches, and tables. We added a helicopter pad, a broadcast tower, a road, and even a security crew. When it was finished, we sat back and admired our work.
Now it was time to invent something.
“We’re laboratory builders, not scientists,” he pointed out.
Good observation.
So we decided to make a scientist.
But all the Lego people had already been used for security.
That’s when I spotted the pipe cleaners.
“How about we make one with these?”
His eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea.”
What followed was one of the most enjoyable indoor afternoons we’ve had together — a completely silly exploration of bendable limbs and boundless imagination.
He made a large pipe cleaner person. Too large for the lab.
When I pointed that out, he calmly explained that the scientist was a shape-shifter and could simply become smaller.
With safety scissors and a bit of determination, he recreated a smaller version.
And just like that, the imagination took over.
He named the scientist “Bob Kevin-Bill.” I don’t know why. It simply arrived, as things often do from a child’s imagination.
Dr. BKB was born.
I wish I had a photo of him, but perhaps it’s better that he lives on in our imagination.
His first great discovery?
That water is wet.
“Wait… what?” I said. “We already know that water is wet.”
“Yes,” he replied with deep sincerity, “but now we know who discovered it.”
And honestly… how do you argue with that?
Dr. BKB became a regular visitor. He was an astronaut, a trapeze artist, a vet, and a magician. He had a two-year residency in our living room laboratory before eventually meeting his end under the couch… and the vacuum cleaner.
He was never recreated. I wish I had a photo of him, but perhaps it’s better that he lives on in our imagination.
But we still laugh about him.
And his world-renowned discovery.
I’ve learned that a child’s imagination has no real boundaries — especially if you step back and let it lead.
Sometimes the best thing you can do is simply come along for the ride.
Because you never know when a truly remarkable discovery will become a shared legend.