Ch. 182; Vol. 10

I was trying to wake up. Puck blasted through the door – silhouette of Freeze Pop in hand…

“No, Puck, you can’t have that right now. It’s time for breakfast.”

“Ok. So I can have it for Dessert Breakfast?”

He didn’t.

Spontaneous phone call from Francis sent him our way with books full of questions in mathematics. Puck immediately conducted him to the freezer full of Freeze Pops…

“You can only have one! When it’s picked, it’s picked.”

Francis, of course, all these years past 8th grade algebra, still can’t wrap his head around sitting with a textbook for more than ten minutes without distraction…

“Let’s see if anything in your house squeaks.”

– Jumping up and down on the ugly kitchen linoleum. –

“COLLETTE?”

– I was putting freshly laundered sheets back on the beds. –

“Yes?”

“Do I have freckles?”

He already had his head tilted back towards the living room, waiting for my arrival and sentence.

“You know, Mom thinks I should be a demolition guy. Who blows up old bridges and stuff. Let me show you the fireworks bomb I made this morning.”

:pulled out his phone:

KA-BOOM.

“Nice one, Francis. Now get back to your work.”

“The area of the rectangle is given by the polynomial by blah-blah-blah-blah-blah…”

Great start.

Quesadillas, toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, oranges, peppers, and three hours later, Francis had completed most of his homework just in time for class.

The afternoon was cool. Like Norway on a day in late spring.

Hair trim.

We built forts with the old cardboard blocks, in red and yellow and green and blue after dinner.

Argentine lentil stew and potato rolls.

“It’s a little bit spicy, Mom.”

Asked endless questions about where Noah’s Ark was now, and about rainbows and bows and arrows and floods.

Last question before bed…

“Do I have to do school when it’s raining?”

And… zzzzzz… sweet sleeping boy.

Adoption Status: Down: 3 years, 10 months; To Go: 2 years, 5 months.