Ch. 146; Vol. 10
Puck gathered all of his essentials for church like…
“I have to get my telescope really quick!”
And the… Yellow Pages. He’s really big into phonebooks these days.
Our interim pastor and his wife were at church for the last time. Pink cake, punch, a large group photo in the sunshine. My son complaining about the sun in his eyes until he couldn’t take it any longer…
“THIS IS STUPID!” he declared way too loudly.
He got some shocked laughs out of the grannies, but definitely not from his mama.
After applicable punishment had been administered back at the house, Carrie brought out the Smithsonian papier-mâché volcano they had worked on two weeks ago. Or “vuh-cano” as Puck can’t help calling it. I’m really not sure if he learned anything.
Four of my family members gathered at the same church on a Sunday, which hasn’t happened since early April now, I guess. CPC hosted my parents’ and Linnea’s first official visit. Joe was already there for Jaya, playing the piano.
So Francis had discarded the black robe, hat, and monogrammed violet stole to become a college student, enrolled at the community college for the summer. It had been an atypical class up there on Saturday. Francis was the singular aspiring engineer in the group, his table arranged with aquatics, Scouts, and aviation. For most of the class there was a heavy focus on the arts amongst the 60+ students. Nothing second rate about that of course. Just a new view for the next generation, I suppose. A sign of the way things are these days.
Puck held up a little metal nut from some gadget, who knows what…
“Mom. This almost went down my THROAT. God SAVED me.”
“Well, what was it doing anywhere near your throat?”
“I sucked it down this pipe,” he lifted the short plastic tube up to my face.
How has my son survived all this time?
“Heaven mercy for saving me,” Puck went on, after stubbing his foot into the table or something.
“What’s that?”
“Heaven mercy for saving me. What does that mean?”
“I’m not… really sure?…”
“Want me to paint your toenails, Puck?” Carrie asked him.
“NOPE!”
“But Francis has his done all the time. His favorite colors are purple with pink polka dots.”
“Well. He’s out of the club.”
“What club?”
“He’s out of the boy club. He’s in the girl club. For doing those things.”
– He inserted the metal nut back into the plastic tube and blasted it out with a breath of air. –
“I pronounce Fran out of the club!”
Joe walked in the door just long enough to change clothes after church and lunch with Jaya’s family at Olive Garden…
“Where are you going now?”
“I’m having a friend day with Thunderbird, now.”
These boys.
We walked around the Irish Fest in Old St. Charles in the weird low-heat medium-humidity of the afternoon. Watched the river for a little while.
Then Rose had to build a server or something else ridiculous on a Sunday evening, so Francis drove her out so they could watch the storms on the drive. The Bear and Puck built a shelter in the brush and poison ivy in the back corner of the yard.
“ROSE! That’s my SUCKER!” Puck bellowed in justice. “FRANCIS SAID I COULD HAVE IT!”
Rose popped the watermelon lollipop into her mouth with a grin. Too late. Puck ran off. Two minutes later with an ice cream bar in his hand…
“I’M THE ICE CREAM KING!”
Great.
[*Photos courtesy of The Bear.]