Beetles & Cobblers

The morning began with Puck turning himself happily in circles on the kitchen floor. This was while he took a break from fixing his tricycle which he had turned on its backside.
Over at the house, Francis was still out of it lying flat on his back under a blanket in Carrie’s room (where the kids and dog would often congregate during the night), in deep slumbers. While he snoozed, Linnea tried not to giggle at the long hairs growing out of his face.
“He’s going to grow a scraggly beard,” she said.
Meanwhile, Carrie was considering taking her interesting find to the Missouri Conservationist Society.
“Look at this,” she said. “I found it biking yesterday on the trail. Native only to Costa Rica from what I can tell.”
She presented a giant dead blueish beetle, certainly nothing from Missouri.
“I think it fell off a plane.”
Meanwhile, Puck was already in the kitchen stacking tea boxes in the pantry while Mom prepared to leave for lunch with Grandma Combs and several of Grandma’s friends in Illinois.
A tiny piece of Rose’s homemade blackberry cobbler was still left in the fridge.
“She put lemon juice in the crust instead of water,” said Mom. “It was so good.”
“Here, have a bite,” Carrie offered.
Collette forked a single berry and a little crust into her mouth. She winced.
“Don’t like it?”
“The crust is really good. I’ve just never had a blackberry before.”
Linnea and Puck were outside taking a mud bath.