Ch. 198; Vol. 10

Lasso in a tree – Puck laced himself into the branches: mosquitoes – probably – red shoes, weight machine rope, looking out for the arrival of Uncle Fran.

“Want a cat to help you sleep?”

Puck knows how to play the game. Francis was wrapped up with the fuzzball on the couch about an hour later.

“I’m trying on different bottlecaps for Crackers to see if she likes them.”

Puck walked through the hallway towards the bathroom.

“MOM! CRACKERS LIKES HER COCA-COLA CAP! SHE STILL HAS IT ON!”

Coca-Cola, eh?…

Fine; that’s fine. Let’s leave it that way.

Clink, clink… clink.

The sounds of a Quiet Hour…

Rose texted in from San Diego, keeping a long-distance eye on things.

A package of The Bear’s special pocket-sized yellow-covered waterproof-paper notebooks.

A yawning warm afternoon.

About three o’clock I got an email.

Due to further issues with Colombia, our Adoption Consultant had been laid off. Four years working with her, and we would never be able to work with, or hear from her, again.

This was unpleasant news.

Burrito Bowls.

Nothing very burrito-y about them. Basmati rice with lime and cilantro, black beans, seasoned chicken, and shredded cheese. But the boys were happy anyway.

Puck’s basket of bottlecaps also accompanied him to the table that night. In his distraction, he pressed one of them up against his freshly showered cheek.

“Puck, don’t put those things by your mouth.”

“At least it’s clean enough not to disease your body. But they could still disease your mouth.”

“That’s maybe true…”

“And who would be silly enough to do THAT?”

“Well…”

He leaned close to me – big shiny greenish eyes – and whispered…

“I think you can guess?… My baby brudder.”

– He leaned back to his big burrito bowl. –

“Because he doesn’t know better not to chew on sharp fings [things].”