Approved

We were supposed to leave in six days; our appointment had already been set for the following Wednesday to meet little Yali. We needed some movement in the visa department.

Meanwhile, it just kept raining. Raining, raining.

On Tuesday I had practically promised Puck a day at home. Used to being on the run, he was ready for some downtime. We lolled around some, enjoying the change of pace.

Until I got that email at 3:27PM: our visas were approved.

Quickly, I collected the paperwork, another money order, and our passports. Puck wouldn’t have a full day at home after all.

“Come on, Muscles.”

“Aw, Mom! Do we have to?”

He consoled his disappointment by lugging a large orange plastic box about half his size into the back seat of the car. Inside: treasures. Collections, knick-knacks, “memories”.

It didn’t take long to overnight the next envelope to San Francisco with our passports. I could only hope it was done right.

When we got back, I ordered our plane tickets, failing to note the time.

“I’M HUNGRY, MOM!”

Bacon sandwiches. I slipped a pan in the oven while Puck tried to contain his hunger. But the bacon was just taking too long.

“Mom, I just ate my foot.”

Bedtime routine has been a circus act lately.

“Can we do the spinny thing, Dad?” Puck always asks, grabbing a blanket from his bed. “Dad! Pretend you’re grumpy and I’ll disappear in the blanket. Pretend there was a crocus in your ice cream and you’re so grumpy.”

“Do you know what a crocus is?”

“Yes. It’s like a lobster.”

Then he’ll throw the blanket over his head, spin around, sink to the ground, and fake his disappearance as much as physically possible.

“And my remaining smoke is wiggling,” he says. “Pretend to be grouchy, Dad”

“Okay. I might as well pick up this weird ball on the floor here.”

“BE GROUCHY, DAD!”

“I’m grouchy.”

Tonight wasn’t much different.

Puck closed out this particular evening by yelling across the house to me, “MOM! HOW MUCH DID YALI WEIGH WHEN HE WAS BORN?!”