Ch. 135; Vol. 10
Slap.
“Francis, stop slapping me. Grandma, Francis slapped me.”
“I think those are love pats,” Mom tried to reassure him.
“No,” said Francis. “No, those are slaps.”
At least they’re honest about it. Francis: wrinkled green AE shirt, pulling on socks from the dryer for his early flight.
“Here, Mom, here,” Puck encouraged me. “Do you want this for your collection?”
“I don’t think I have a water balloon collection…”
“Well, you could start one!”
Just like he was going to start a mustard collection when we went to the grocery store on Monday. We made a lot of little water balloons and stuffed the freezer with them while Puck shuffled around in Carrie’s clouds-in-sky puffy boot-slippers. He had just been outside hosing down the yard where blue grass seed had been put down for the upcoming spring/summer occasions.
Linnea woke up late. She had been out at Applebee’s with friends after the concert. She toasted crunchy Eggos for herself and Puck and watched a little “Arthur” together before we had to leave.
Bed Bath & Beyond. Mom and I scrounged up gifts for Annamaria’s wedding shower. I asked Puck to guard the items of purchase while I looked at glassware. He was greeted by two elderly ladies…
“I’m just sitting here with the stuff so nobody steals it,” he informed them.
“Well, you’re doing a good job,” he was reassured.
As we checked out, he ended up with a poppable blue bird toy anyway, because Mom thought they were so cute. He also held a tiny silverish pocket watch in his hand that Linnea had given him a long time ago. He held it up to the clerk behind the desk…
“I don’t… I don’t need to pay for this, because it belongs at home. It’s mine.”
Mom picked up White Castle on the way home. It was sort of a Combs thing growing up. Dad can’t stand them; neither can Carrie. I’m not the hugest of fans myself, so Mom got me some chicken rings instead.
Carrie bought shirts and bow ties for the boys while Francis took his turn in the cockpit. It wasn’t long that he was snoring on the couch while Linnea snoozed on the loveseat with earbuds in her ears. Summer vacation was starting just a little bit early.
Puck displayed the new “ring” he had found, a heavy-duty metal circle from the old toy drawer, I presumed, which actually did serve as a ring for his index finger that had dinosaur-skinned in recent days from the band-aid he’d kept on there for days.
“We’re having a Canadian dish for dinner tonight, Puck. It’s something they eat way up north where the fishermen live.”
“What is it, Sun?”
“French fries, cheese curds, and gravy.”
“Ok, Puck. Finish your sums.”
“How many left, Mom?”
“Eight.”
“Help me, Lord.”
And we got ready for church while Francis and Puck blasted trumpet sounds through bicycle handlebars on the back patio. Elephants. Then Joe did, too.
Homemade cupcakes and studies in Mormonism. Not a bad way to round out a Wednesday.