A Moustache
When Collette and Puck arrived that morning, Frances came up the stairs with his his t-shirt tucked into his shorts, which were pulled up high over his stomach, black dress shoes, black socks pulled half-way up his legs, his hair slicked over, and a Lord of the Rings DVD in his hands.
“Hi, Collette!” he said. “I love Lord of the Rings!”
Collette laughed. He was playing the part of the essential stereotypical home schooler.
Later, mostly everyone was hanging out in the kitchen.
“Hey, check this out,” said Carrie-Bri, “Joe is finally getting some fuzz on his face.”
Joe grinned, “Do I get a present, Mom?”
“A present?”
“Yeah, to celebrate Joe Growing a Moustache Day.”
Mom was not inclined to award Joe for such a feat.
“Let it grow,” Carrie told him. “Maybe it’ll balance out your eyebrows.”
Joe would consider it.
While Collette worked over the algebra with Frances (who was no longer wearing high-water shorts), Carrie was on the ladder, balanced on the stairs painting the high wall. When she left temporarily to get more paint in her tray, Joe walked to the basement door.
“Ow!” he cried, holding his eye.
“Joe, did you really not see that ladder right there in front of you?” Mom laughed at him.
“No!” Joe was still holding his eye where he had run into the ladder.
Frances giggled from the table.
“Hey, everyone,” Joe laughed, letting go of the damaged eyeball, “watch.”
He permiscuously walked up the ladder like a showgirl, ridiculously singing (without words) the intro to “New York, New York”.
“Joe!” Carrie yelled at him. “Get your bum off of there! Wet paint!”
Joe protested.
“OFF!”
Joe stayed off the ladder for the rest of the day while Collette and Carrie continued painting. And the rain fell shortly after Mom, Collette, and Carrie returned from Trader Joe’s.