Ch. 136; Vol. 10
It was all about Crackers today. Miss princess was escorted to her cat tent, by Puck, where the gray feline was soon lounging on soft green grass [weeds] accompanied by breakfast…
“Mom,” Puck looked at me concerned from the patio, “I really need to be out here with her, because she could be in danger from those dogs.”
I handed him the plate of eggs-in-a-nest and allowed it.
We walked. Puck found his old stroller in the shed and buckled in Donkey and Buck for a raucous ride around town. That included a passing police officer in a black car, twice. Sometimes I get the idea this neighborhood is almost safer at night when everyone’s actually home from work.
“Do you want to watch The Voyage of the Dawn Treader for movie night tonight, or…”
“Yes! Yes, the Voyage of the Dawn Treader! I had a dream about it last night. And having a dream about it must mean something so I’d better watch it today.”
That settled that… BBC version, of course.
Returning, between Garfield and other necessities, we continued to organize the last few boxes in Puck’s room. He was reminded of old memories by the tokens we dug up while we worked…
“Mom! Where is my old candy bag? Where did all the candy go?”
“Hmm… I think you brought that over to share with Grandma and Grandpa…”
“What?!”
“You wanted to do it.”
“But, Mom, I was going to give that candy to sweet little boys that have been GOOD!”
It was a good thing we walked in the morning. A soft rain fell at lunch while we watched Jesses James hide out in “Little House on the Prairie”. Those faux Ingalls girls had some fine adventures.
I found Puck bathing Crackers with my hair brush dipped in a sudsy sink during Quiet Hour. This was a bold move, but amazingly, she didn’t bolt from him after the tortuous experience.
Puck stuck his face into the screen of the open living room window…
“Ha ha ha-ha ha. Nyah nyah nyah-nyah nyah.”
“Puck. What are you doing? Who are you saying that to?”
“A bee,” was his prompt response.
We took a second walk that afternoon. Puck careening down the street with the stroller, in flip-flops [which he claimed were hurting his feet], hunting treasures. The first of which was piles of fluffy tree pollen littering the pavement…
“I know!” he declared.
Taking handfuls of the golden stuff, he plastered the bottom of his flip-flops and walked that way with the cushioning until it all fell out. Then there was an abandoned, and largely scuffed, bicycle pedal. And, of course, more squishy tar. Always more squishy tar.
When we got back, Puck was already in the mud, pretending to hose it off his legs, which wasn’t working as well as I had hoped, but probably just about as well as he had hoped…
“Boys love mud! Boys love mud! Boys love mud!” he trumpeted.
Over and over and over again.
I took a break with a slice of hard salami while he got himself into the shower. And we caught our elderly neighbor, Tasha, mowing our front lawn…
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that. Thanks so much. The Bear will love that.”
“Well, you know he’s always doing so much to help me out, and I figured he was so busy with school, I just thought I’d do it.”
Then she commented on the rain that was coming and how the lightening kept flashing last night but never really did anything.