1 Octobro
Sexta-feira, 1 Octobro, 2010
OLeif and Collette were woken at 7:07 by a Puck, who cuddled under the covers for awhile. Then he sat up to think.
“I’m starving, Mama.”
“Do you want oatmeal?”
“No. I want toasts.”
“And an egg.”
Puck wasn’t so certain about the egg.
“You want to make your own breakfast?” Collette asked him.
“No. ‘Cause I can’t cook!”
When he was presented with the fried egg a short time later, Puck looked at it, disgruntled.
“I don’t like green hams and egg,” he said.
Around ten o’clock, Collette and Puck heard voices in their back yard, coming and going. Finally, Collette saw what they were looking at. Somehow, and at sometime, a buck had wandered into their fenced yard. Collette saw him duck behind the shed. Someone had shot him with something, she wasn’t sure what. Perhaps a tranquilizer gun. It was too difficult to say, because he wouldn’t come out from behind the shed. Terrified, no doubt, with the dozen or so men standing around, waiting for help to come.
Then when the police officer came to their door, he explained.
“Someone hit it on Highway 40,” he said. “Shot it with a bow and arrow. He’s expiring as we speak.”
What’s wrong with that deer, Mama?” Puck asked, watching the shed to see if the deer would come out again.
“He’s dying, Puck.”
“He’s dying to Heaven?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
Later, as the deer was hauled into a pick-up truck out in the street, Puck did not seem very concerned.
“Poor deer,” he said. “He’s gonna live with that man. He’s gonna live at his home. ‘Cause from now on, he’ll be safe.”
Before lunch, Puck was on his stomach on the floor in his room, looking through his favorite Highlights magazines. When he came across the recipe for turkey sandwiches, he read through the drawings of the necessary ingredients.
“Butter, bread. Butter, bread. Butter, bread. Butter, bread. Ham. Cheese. Butter, bread. Butter, bread…”
Then during lunch, Puck discussed how he ought to ‘give Baby Hesed more of his clothes because [he was] getting too bigger for them’. And then Collette explained how Baby Hesed would be moving to Africa soon. And Puck was not very certain that he liked that idea. And then he got to thinking about Colombia…
“I miss my brother in Colombia,” he said.
After his quiet hour, Puck was allowed a jaw breaker.
“Mama, ha ha!” he laughed. “I have an Erff (Earth) in my mouff (mouth)!”
Come evening, Puck was very excited to wait for his aunt at the window. And once she did come, he came up with every excuse in the book not to stay in bed and go to sleep.
“There’s a ghost in here!” he exclaimed.
Someone had watched a Magic School Bus episode on ‘light’ that afternoon.
“There are no ghosts. Go to sleep,” Collette told him.
“You just tell those ghosts to go eat a turnip,” Rose told him.
Puck looked back into his room and made the announcement. “Onion tells you to go eat a turnip!”
Finally, the little dude fell asleep, and Rose brought up the question of why some items appreciated in value with age, and others did not.
“How come my car doesn’t go up in value, but your violin does?” she asked, jokingly.
“Because the tone of my violin becomes more rich and beautiful with age, and pronounced.”
“The tones of my car become more… pronounced… with age…”
That night, Rose was in a little of a celebratory mood. One contract down, waiting for the next. And beginning her Masters. So there was ice cream for all three. (Joe was in Rolla with Wally for two days.) After Collette and Rose had looked through a stack of Smithsonian magazines from the library, OLeif retrieved for them: waffle bowl chocolate sundaes.
And anticipation was rising for the final AC STL match the following evening, where practically the entire family would be present to see them play against Rochester, New York.
OLeif and Collette were woken at 7:07 by a Puck, who cuddled under the covers for awhile. Then he sat up to think.
“I’m starving, Mama.”
“Do you want oatmeal?”
“No. I want toasts.”
“And an egg.”
Puck wasn’t so certain about the egg.
“You want to make your own breakfast?” Collette asked him.
“No. ‘Cause I can’t cook!”
When he was presented with the fried egg a short time later, Puck looked at it, disgruntled.
“I don’t like green hams and egg,” he said.
Around ten o’clock, Collette and Puck heard voices in their back yard, coming and going. Finally, Collette saw what they were looking at. Somehow, and at sometime, a buck had wandered into their fenced yard. Collette saw him duck behind the shed. Someone had shot him with something, she wasn’t sure what. Perhaps a tranquilizer gun. It was too difficult to say, because he wouldn’t come out from behind the shed. Terrified, no doubt, with the dozen or so men standing around, waiting for help to come.
Then when the police officer came to their door, he explained.
“Someone hit it on Highway 40,” he said. “Shot it with a bow and arrow. He’s expiring as we speak.”
What’s wrong with that deer, Mama?” Puck asked, watching the shed to see if the deer would come out again.
“He’s dying, Puck.”
“He’s dying to Heaven?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
Later, as the deer was hauled into a pick-up truck out in the street, Puck did not seem very concerned.
“Poor deer,” he said. “He’s gonna live with that man. He’s gonna live at his home. ‘Cause from now on, he’ll be safe.”
Before lunch, Puck was on his stomach on the floor in his room, looking through his favorite Highlights magazines. When he came across the recipe for turkey sandwiches, he read through the drawings of the necessary ingredients.
“Butter, bread. Butter, bread. Butter, bread. Butter, bread. Ham. Cheese. Butter, bread. Butter, bread…”
Then during lunch, Puck discussed how he ought to ‘give Baby Hesed more of his clothes because [he was] getting too bigger for them’. And then Collette explained how Baby Hesed would be moving to Africa soon. And Puck was not very certain that he liked that idea. And then he got to thinking about Colombia…
“I miss my brother in Colombia,” he said.
After his quiet hour, Puck was allowed a jaw breaker.
“Mama, ha ha!” he laughed. “I have an Erff (Earth) in my mouff (mouth)!”
Come evening, Puck was very excited to wait for his aunt at the window. And once she did come, he came up with every excuse in the book not to stay in bed and go to sleep.
“There’s a ghost in here!” he exclaimed.
Someone had watched a Magic School Bus episode on ‘light’ that afternoon.
“There are no ghosts. Go to sleep,” Collette told him.
“You just tell those ghosts to go eat a turnip,” Rose told him.
Puck looked back into his room and made the announcement. “Onion tells you to go eat a turnip!”
Finally, the little dude fell asleep, and Rose brought up the question of why some items appreciated in value with age, and others did not.
“How come my car doesn’t go up in value, but your violin does?” she asked, jokingly.
“Because the tone of my violin becomes more rich and beautiful with age, and pronounced.”
“The tones of my car become more… pronounced… with age…”
That night, Rose was in a little of a celebratory mood. One contract down, waiting for the next. And beginning her Masters. So there was ice cream for all three. (Joe was in Rolla with Wally for two days.) After Collette and Rose had looked through a stack of Smithsonian magazines from the library, OLeif retrieved for them: waffle bowl chocolate sundaes.
And anticipation was rising for the final AC STL match the following evening, where practically the entire family would be present to see them play against Rochester, New York.