23 : Day 18

The middle of the night brought big storms. Numerous cracks of lightning, some of them sizzling like they had just fried a tree or a bush. Needless to say, Yali joined us during the big show for some consolation.

It was somewhere around the middle of the morning. Yali had been caught screeching one too many times and was now sobbing in the back room, hoping for some comfort. Puck took charge of the situation. He gently pulled him onto his lap and put both hands on his shoulders.

“Now, Yali, listen to me. Everyone is running away from us because we’re being so loud. I need you to help me calm down the place.”

Yali was cured. And happy.

Puck passed him back to me. “I told you I’m a miracle worker, Mom. With babies. Especially Yali.”

After speech therapy, Carrie-Bri and I recorded another baseball podcast out at the Big House. And Mom was busy with the boys, making popcorn in the kitchen.

Dinnertime.

The boys were so busy with their food and I was so busy with cleaning, that I didn’t notice Yali using the last fish stick to sop of his remaining puddle of melted popsicle until it was far too late.

Yuck.

We do contribute something to this place, I guess. A little more “gross”, definitely. And instead of trashcans filled with things like farm fresh egg shells and organic celery stalks, it’s crayon boxes, and juice boxes.

Puck and I wrapped up our evening with a study in Genesis 3. “Pilgrim’s Progress” came up during the discussion.

“When was that written, Mom?”

“I don’t remember. 1700s maybe?”

Puck wasn’t trying to be funny when he asked me next, “Were you alive back then?”