Almost Adult
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Collette was preparing the morning. Puck marched out and sat himself down on the couch.
“Good morning, buddy.”
“Yes, but. Mama. You didn’t even let me finish my dream.”
Back on the ranch…
Francis was 17.
Mom had cooked bacon, and Carrie was preparing pancakes.
Francis received his gifts from OLeif, Collette, and Puck – these were in the form of a Snyder’s Pretzels Variety 36-pack and large tub of Beef Jerky to replenish his snack stash. And a copy of Calvin & Hobbes, given that Puck had somehow collected three of the same particular title.
Dad was returning from his run.
“Grandpa!” Puck declared, holding his nose. “You smell bad.”
“Oh, Dad,” Carrie groaned. “Maybe we should set up your Gatorade station in the basement.”
“What?” Dad grinned. “Girls used to fight over who could hold my sweats.”
“Oh, Dad!”
“Well. Before they got sweaty.”
Carrie’s cardiologist had confirmed the histamine allergy as the likeliest possibility. The intricate puzzle continued.
Puck started chasing the cat prior to a glass of cold orange juice. Halfway through his second glass, he announced to Grandma…
“I’m stuffed with this juice!”
“Yesterday, I did the craziest dance my knees can do!” he said loudly to Mom in the kitchen.
Linnea was glum that she had received no valentines the previous day, due to Francis’ continued threats to any and all boys who took an interest in her, which was likely a sizable handful.
Francis brought up his birthday balloons.
Purple and pink.
Somewhere in there Puck stood on the kitchen table bench and commanded Francis to stand still while he combed his hair…
“I’ll bet the YMCA will laugh at you because you look so funny!” he declared. “You look nice, but you look funny.”
Then he began conversing with him about milk and water…
“But you have to drink a lot of water before you go to Africa. A LOT of water. Because they are very poor and can’t afford water. But. Baby Hesed is going there to make them better and to make them happy.”
The rain-patter fell heavier by the afternoon. That familiar friendly drum on the roof. So Linnea and Puck built a tent worthy of the Arabian bedouins, including a light network of internal lamps and floor cushions. And popcorn. They watched a few rounds of Arthur together, Mom included.
Joe installed fog lights in Mom’s car.
And Francis left for an evening shift at the Y.
Meanwhile, back in farmland…
Puck was greeted with a valentine larger than his head from Anneliese. This was followed with supervising an overly active crowd of fifteen clowns.
One of the dads who was assisting that night leaned over to Collette during the tikes’ choir rehearsal…
“And we’re giving them cookies after this?”
Yes, big fat heart sugar cookies iced in pink with red sprinkles.
“I’m sorry!” Daisy-Jean apologized later. “The cookies. I know. I’m a grandma. What can I say?”
The level of noise was growing more and more insane. There weren’t many times in life when the level of current chaos could actually completely drown out Collette’s ability to think. But that night was one of them.
Unbelievable.
When they tucked Puck into an eight o’clock bed, he gave Collette a big squeeze around the neck. Then his eyes popped open in surprise…
“Oh, Mama! I ordered some milk!”