A Proper Education

Puck sat at the kitchen table over the remains of breakfast, snapping rubber bands into the air. He listened while El Oso and I discussed my plans to return to Spring Training in March.

“CAN’T I GO TOO?!” His eyes were so big and bright, and with that one tooth missing, I just wanted to pinch those chubby cheeks. “I LOVE BASEBALL!”

“You do not.”

“BUT I WANT TO GO TO FLORIDA! I’VE NEVER BEEN TO FLORIDA!”

“You don’t want to drive seventeen hours to Florida with nothing to do. You would be so bored, pal.”

Puck stretched another rubber band. “I would have something to do! Rubber bands are so entertaining!”

One boy, one rubber band, seventeen hour road trip. I don’t think so.

El Oso left before ten to hunt up an alternative vehicle solution with Theodore as sounding board.

While they discussed engines and loans, I don’t know where our time went, but when I found myself serving Puck a large bowl of popcorn at twelve, I also discovered a stack of unfinished homework in his weekend folder. Puck wasn’t bothered. We reviewed Spanish vocabulary for Monday’s quiz.

“Okay, Puck, what does ‘la manzana’ mean?”

:crickets:

“Lemon chili?”

A+. I can feel it.

Strangely, he loves learning cursive. I thought it was a dead art. But as he distracted himself from double-digit subtraction and began instead curling i’s and t’s on his paper, I was impressed. This kid could have survived in the 1800’s.

We had a few last spare hours in the day to spend at the Silverspooon abode, where El Oso was already waiting for us.

Crackling fire. Grass-fed beef, sweet potatoes with chunks of butter. Puck could eat his body weight in butter. And they say it’s not all that bad for you anymore. Go figure. Puck and Gloria haggling over fish chowder or something that I wasn’t about to sample. A few raspberry Ghirardelli squares to polish off the meal. MIZZOU football. Nice.