12-13-14

Puck stuck his head through the front door. El Oso was in the kitchen arranging sweet potato fries on a pan.

“Wanna come ride your bike with me, Dad?”

“My bike’s broken, bud.”

“Wanna come ride your motorcycle with me?”

“My motorcycle’s broken, bud.”

“Wanna come drive your car with … uh, never mind,” he laughed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Next best thing: El Oso watching him bike while eating sweet potato fries.

It was sometime after two o’clock, nearer three, that we drove out to the Silverspoon’s. Puck was in the middle of an important conversation.

“Dad. Why do people believe in Santa Claus?”

“Oh, I don’t know … why? Does it bother you?”

“Yes. It bodders me a lot. He doesn’t exist.”

“No, he doesn’t. But you don’t need to let it bother you.”

“But, Dad, Santa is the weirdest person on Erf. There is no way he can fly around the world in one night.”

“You don’t think he could do it with magic?”

“Dad, magic doesn’t exist. Just tricks and optical illusions.”

Matter settled.

SHATTER.

I looked up just in time to see the glass top of the deck table splinter into thousands of shards.

“What…?”

The door opened as Puck walked in, slightly dazed. “I don’t understand how that happened! I was just throwing rocks up in the air in the yard and it smashed everywhere!”

Anyway, after the glass was swept up completely, it was time to leave for the church Christmas party. Candlelit church Christmas party. I’m surprised none of the kids – and by “kids” I of course mean Francis – set the place on fire. So after pork and rolls and potatoes and other stuff like that, the kids sang as wisemen and shepherds with the congregation. And that was a wrap.