Ch. 184; Vol. 10

Tuesday night: Ghostwriter mysteries over dinner [a verboten PBS show from my childhood], baby bunny munching dinner salad near the patio, nibbling greens and weeds and clovers. And it was another circus of Puck shouting out his own lullabies…

“BUM BUM BUM! BUM BUM BUM! BUM BUM BUM, BUM-BUM!!”

“Why is it always Jingle Bells…”

Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat.

Puck emerges from his room; takes a bow: runs off.

“DID YOU HEAR MY CHRISTMAS BUM SONG?!”

“We did.”

Riotous laughter.

“I LIKED IT! WHAT ABOUT YOU?!”

Wednesday was a new story…

“Tomorrow, Dad, we will go to the rock store and bring back a geeeode, and then we will come back and play Minecraft for the rest of the day.”

Precision. Color-tabbed binders of the schedule.

The Bear had asked for a date. We’re still making up for it from high school.

Puck got his spend-the-night at Nana’s and Papa’s.

South City: Stellina’s – reported to be the best food in STL – landed us a starter of hummus, olives, and – finally – some awesome warm pita, me a plate of “Hog Wild” sandwich [“shaved ham, bacon, granny smith apple, white cheddar, sweet hot mustard on peasant bread, served grilled”], The Bear: steak tenderloin…

“This is like the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

…and a pleasant waiter who used words like “certainly”.

Izze, raspberry sorbet, firecrackers popping and cracking summer into the mellow night.

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