79 : Parks & Rockets
Saturday evening had been all gold and blue sky before the storm, that eccentric green light right before the rain. But most of it skirted us, flashes of lightning in the south. Lightning bugs in the dark yard.
Sunday was all sun and August clouds after the service.
During the service, after Yali had been removed for being too loud as usual – but not before he plastered Puck with many kisses – Puck worked on crafting a very tiny “cootie catcher” from bulletin scraps and a handful of colored pens from my book bag. Then he went to town on the small tupperware of goldfish crackers originally reserved for Yali. During communion, he passed the plate before he remembered to take a cup of grape juice.
“Hon, you missed it,” I whispered to him.
He slapped one hand to his forehead in disbelief. He stayed like that until Theodore, serving the sacrament, noticed the situation and walked the plate back to him for a second try. Communion saved.
The afternoon was warm. We finally settled on driving to a nearby park with most of the family.
I heard Puck chatting with a set of spontaneous friends in some nearby shrubbery, hunting shade.
“I ATE A WHOLE BAG OF CARROTS ONCE!” His voice would carry all the way to Canada on a clear day. “THAT’S WHY I CAN SEE SO WELL! I can’t read that well though. My dad got glasses when he was about 16.”
When I turned to Oxbear to ask if that information was correct, I noticed more gray hairs on the side of his head again. Except on closer examination I realized they were white. Fatherhood.
Meanwhile, another kid started up a game of “tornado”, which I think Puck eventually became involved in before transferring to frisbee with Oxbear and Francis. Only in St. Louis would you play “tornado”.
“THE TORNADO’S COMING! THE TORNADO’S COMING!” the kid in question screeched.
Rounding out the afternoon, we drove to the nearby schoolyard to watch Elmer and Francis shoot off a model rocket. Watching both of them chase down the parachute was just about as amusing. They couldn’t catch it. Either time. When I suggested they looked like a couple of outfielders chasing down the ball, Carrie proposed they more closely resembled a pair of monks due to their thinning crowns. Another male Snicketts trait. I think they’re sort of proud of that fact.
Then because Puck begged a spend-the-night “at Grandma’s!” that evening, Oxbear treated me to crab rangoon on the way home. Just your typical Memorial Day weekend dinner.