Ch. 120; Vol. 10

“Mom. When we go to see Allie, we won’t know if it’s him, because only his head will stick out of the water.”

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Puck had not forgotten Allie, the boy turtle.

“We’ll figure it out, bud.”

Sometimes early morning plans of attack are not enticing.

While The Bear pulled on his ten-pound boots, he talked to Puck…

“So what things do you have a hard time waiting for?”

“The service to be over.”

“Oh yeah? Well, what do you enjoy about the service?”

“…I like it when he says, ‘Go in peace’. ‘Cause then I can get snacks.”

Honest.

At least he’s honest.

Greek history after lunch. Sobering images of children left on mountain peaks to die…

“I don’t get why someone didn’t say, ‘I want an elevator at the doctor’s office to the mountain so that someone could adopt them,” Puck reasoned.

And then when I asked him whether he agreed with the Spartans [who valued body] or the Athenians [they valued the mind and body], he replied…

“The mind. Because the mind controls the whole body, so that’s why I think it’s better. You can call it a brain for short if you want.”

A slow drizzle, a few rumbles of thunder, and Fort Zumwalt Park was called off.

Ivy invited us to come over anyway, so the boys could play the Wii and Minecraft.

Of course the rain stopped while we were driving out, but it didn’t matter. They were just as happy building gold-plated mansions and eating Jolly Rancher popsicles.

Ivy had a cup of tea while we looked through all of their photos from a recent vacation in the Badlands, Tetons, and Colorado.

When we got home, Puck immediately returned to his mound of peeled clays. Blunt knife. He was planning a business…

“Mom. Could you please write a sign – OPEN: CLAY POTS: NOT A JOKE.”

I explained some of the difficulties of opening a clay pot shop in such a day and age. This eventually led to reading about Ancient Egypt instead. Puck was not impressed with my abilities of reading history books and helping him mold clay into pots at the same time…

“Do you want to mold pots or do you want to be fired?”

I’ll admit that one took me aback at first. So did his next comment…

“Could I not have breakfast for two days?”

“What? Why?”

“I want to see what it feels like.”

“What?”

“And I mean, no breakfasts or dinners or lunch… Only snacks.”

There’s the rub.

Dinner involved more mountains of clay and “Davy Crockett and the River Pirates”, another old Disney. Puck finished his fajita and began peeling his multi-colored clay planet into smaller pieces. Picking up a large green shaving and molding it, he announced to me…

“I made a sculpture of a bum.”

He didn’t even think it was funny. He was just making it because he could. Took after his uncles. Speaking of Joe… he had just phoned me up to order him some Chinese on the run while he hit the road from work for another round of socially based events.

In the end, The Bear came back early. All the Man Summit dudes were helping move things at their church, and The Bear left work too late to join Men’s Prayer at the Pepper’s, so…

The Bear home on a Thursday night: Winnie the Pooh with Puck, chicken/fish salad, and sesame sticks.