9 : A Little Mischief

The sky was oscillating – clouds, sun, clouds, sun – about right for August. Those smug puffy whites sailing across the sky most days. And the heat was dissipating a little. At least for awhile.

This allowed Francis to mow the lawn with both my boys on deck for the ride, headphones and safety glasses included. Free entertainment. Free babysitting.

Following Yali’s last speech therapy session of the summer, I trucked the boys back to the Silverspoon’s where Curly and Lulu were waiting out a repair on their Jeep.

Some of the Jeep’s oil had leaked onto the driveway in the night, a patch so small I hadn’t noticed it. But of course the boys did. When I looked up from the porch, they were both marking their territory on the sidewalk with open-palm black oil prints. So they got scrubbed down inside while Curly spread sand on the oil patch.

However, it didn’t take long for the boys to cash in on the sand wagon too. Yali grabbed a small fistful and began chasing Puck around the front yard with it, aiming for him.

“NOOOO!” Puck laughed. “I HAVE A FAMILY! I HAVE A FAMILY! I HAVE A FAMILYYYY!”

By the time I brought Yali in for a bath, there was sand in both their hair. Intentional, of course. And mine. Also intentional. I wadded up the sand bag to ensure no further damage ensued.

Ribs for dinner as the sun began to sink. Another rocky start for the Cards game downtown. Lulu practiced away on her fiddle in the basement. And Puck watched Youtube videos with Curly about cracking open forgotten safes full of treasure, like stacks of old two dollar bills and unopened bourbon from 1960. Puck was fascinated.