45 : Will They Have Vegetables?

Some days it’s not so easy pulling the head off the pillow. That’s rarely a problem for my boys, at least. Rarely will they sleep past 6:30, even on Saturdays. And it was another one of those days. I wasn’t as eager to start the morning. However, by the time Oxbear joined them, blasting his favorite genre of music – Soul/Gospel – from the fancy new portable speaker Rose bought for him, I got myself going.

Rain was coming. Oxbear pulled out the power-washer loaned from the Big House and got going on the brick and siding. I wasn’t sure how clean the house could actually be for the photographer on Tuesday, with three boys living on the same premises. But it was worth the try.

Both brothers followed their dad from a distance in their wellies. At one point, Puck raced back inside to grab the car keys for Oxbear.

“YO! HOMIE!” he yelled to Oxbear from the front door. “STORM COMING! RED ALERT! RED ALERT!”

Several hours later, Oxbear decided I should have a break for the afternoon. So I helped him pack the boys off to Nana’s and Papa’s for a few hours.

Silence.

Such a rare sound.

I know I won’t miss it one of these days. But every once in awhile I get to thinking I’d like to hear a little bit of it. Just a little.

The rain had come, washing all that green overgrowth of the neighborhood. Weeping drippy jungle.

When the boys returned for dinner, it was after five o’clock. Hair cuts were also needed. And baths.

“So, Puck,” I asked, “are you interested in attending the Fourth Grade picnic in a few weeks?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to go back to school.”

“Well, just think of it as a reunion with your friends.”

He thought about it for a few moments.

“Will they have vegetables?”

“Probably.”

“Sign me up.”