Ch. 157; Vol. 10
Last night I discovered, for the first time, that Puck does not think I am the best mom in the world. Surprisingly, I was not greatly bothered by this revelation, and forgot about it. However, this morning, I was curious as to which esteemed lady he believed deserved this award. So I asked him…
“Who do you think is the best mom in the world?”
He pondered. He’s a pretty honest kid, so I appreciated the thought he invested in his final answer…
“Jesus’ Mom! God’s Mom!”
Safe answer, safe answer…
“Ok, so who’s the best dad in the world?”
“Dad’s the best dad in the world! AND YOU’RE THE BEST MOM IN THE WORLD!”
I knew I had probably pushed it too far. The kid probably felt sorry for “old mom”. But I was curious anyway.
Later, around breakfast, I heard Puck scolding Crackers for lounging on the kitchen table…
“Get DOWN FROM THAT TABLE NOW, CRACKERS! Or you will be grounded for ONE HUNDRED YEARS!”
I don’t think he knows what “grounded” means, by the way.
“Mom? I need some socks.”
“You don’t have to wear them this morning. It’s not cold.”
“You’re just trying to get me on your feet team. I’m not on your feet team! You know that you want to trick me. And I’m on the sock team.”
If anybody’s on the sock team, I’m on the sock team. But Puck wasn’t going to be convinced.
We read Dad’s daily devotional together…
“Mom,” Puck informed me over his oatmeal. “Sin is like a wall. It is like a, a wall of blackness. Surrounding the Earth. Blacker than space.”
Puck crashed through his Blue Book Speller – which has now been reduced to a once-a-week torture – torture by his definition. But he was clearly on auto-pilot anyway…
“Wouldn’t it be funny if tornado warnings were just laughing? HA HA HA! That would be RIDICULOUS! But if it was the laugh land, it wouldn’t matter, because it would be the laugh land.”
We took a morning walk, Puck buckling Donkey and Buck into that quickly fading baby stroller, which he can’t bring himself to toss, despite the holes in the cloth. We shared some soft tar-poking in the warm sun together. Catching cottonwood fluff scaling off trees in the back corner of the neighborhood, which happens sometimes…
“I GOT ONE! I GOT ONE!”
While I prepared Puck a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat white bread with a side of carrots and cuties, Puck was talking to Crackers, whom he had banished to the basement for intruding in the meal preparations once again…
“I was sign-languaging to Crackers not to scratch the chair,” he told me.
He grabbed a cold blackberry Izze from the fridge.
I felt like a break after lunch, so while Puck soaked his matchbox cars in the bathroom sink, involving more orange washable paint, I started Ken Burns Baseball, which Dad had recommended. Another Netflix find. And worth the effort and time.
We needed some dinner. I spread out nine fat chicken breasts in a pan, and baked them in salt and pepper, which we [well, I] ate with corn tortillas, salsa, and the round white queso fresco cheese. Puck wasn’t interested in corn tortillas. Or salsa. But I do what I can. He tried to sneak another Izze, but I prevented that move.
So while Puck finished up the dinner Andy Griffith… The window in our bedroom has a way of looking like a picture box in the sun. A terrarium under glass. Sometimes I just stare at it. And then I realize it probably looks a little weird… And then Puck coasted his Strider back and forth in the living room while listening to fictitious accounts of sisters living in 1840’s New Mexico. Grinning. Just to himself. It’s amazing to me how much he listens to narrated accounts, without reference or pictures. He shared some of his personal thoughts while he circled…
“It’s like the water is part of the body, and if you don’t have the water, the body slows down. It’s like, if you don’t have water, it’s a part of a missing puzzle.”
“That’s right. How did you know about that?”
“Nothing. I just thought of it.”
By this time, he had ditched the bike, and was just listening, walking in endless counterclockwise circles around the multi-colored rug in the living room, which… was quickly becoming parkour – jumping, falling, crashing, somersaults, forwards, backwards, and sideways off the furniture…
“Quite a show, eh?” he asked me, grinning. “Quite a party, eh?”
