End of First Grade
Sometimes I think Crackers almost misses us when we’re gone, even if it’s just for the day. You couldn’t have told by the way she sunk her teeth into Puck’s forearm the other day while he was gently petting her. Temper, temper. This unnecessary act of violence prompted Puck to ask me:
“Do you think we should send Crackers to obedience school? She doesn’t really know about evil and goodness, but she’s got to learn some manners.”
Meanwhile, it was Puck’s turn to be cranky Friday morning, celebrating the end of First Grade. Before we left for the Silverspoon’s, I prepared scrambled eggs with white cheddar/provolone for breakfast:
“Aw, MOM! Not eggs AGAIN! We just had eggs yesterday!”
“Puck, occasionally in your life you will have to eat the same breakfast two days in a row. And it won’t kill you.”
I guess he agreed with me, because he finished the eggs with no further trouble, then joined El Oso in the bathroom to inspect the new shower. They put it to the test:
“WUH-HO!” Puck declared. “MOM! COME SEE THE NEW SHOWER!”
Gloria was still at the Silverspoon’s, about to pull out for a ten-hour solo drive to Texas. Theodore was on his way to a conference in Florida, so we had the house for the weekend.
After producing some more whining, Puck sat down to the counter for the old spirograph. Mood-changer. Gloria left me Hershey’s in the bureau drawer. Pretzel rolls. All this in exchange for unpacking the pig about to arrive for the freezer. Four boxes stuffed with meat. Puck was impressed and helped me stack the bars of various frozen shapes in the basement freezer. Pig unpacked, I prepared for the game.
During a difficult loss in a windy city, Puck walked back inside from the deck, tooth in hand. Popped it out himself. Number six.
Before long, it was 7:30. Carrie-Bri and Rose walked in. Joe and Jaya couldn’t make it; prepping for Joe’s big move on Saturday morning. And Ricky complained to Rose, something about missing the “sandman” more than us. So we snacked down on some Hershey’s and “Parks and Rec” on a lazy Friday night on a cool evening in early May.
But not before Puck asked for his tooth in a ziploc to stuff under the pillow:
“So I guess I’d better let the tooth fairy know that…”
“MOM! You are the tooth fairy! Mom! You can pretend if you want to though.”
I don’t know why I bother. If he doesn’t believe in Santa Clause, why would the tooth fairy make any more sense? Naturally, being the awesome mom that I am, I forgot to put a dollar under the pillow. Fortunately for my five-grandparents-three-uncles-soon-to-be-four-aunts-in-town son, he doesn’t care all that much.