Ch. 211; Vol. 10

Rumble, rumble, rumble…

Puck zoomed by my door on his Strider…

“I’M THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!”

Rumble, rumble, rumble…

“I’M THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!”

Groan.

I’m not a pushy parent. I have no blueprints to mold my son into a superior athlete or artist or archaeologist. But there are a few things I don’t hope for my son, and that includes maybe the worst job in the world.

A truck.

This little family now owned a pick-up truck.

A rumbling black pick-up truck.

Well, technically it wasn’t in my name, so…

…I didn’t actually have to claim that one as Collette Reputation Property…

But Puck was excited anyway and road back from the trade-off.

Thump.

Sliiiide…

Thump.

Scoot, scoot, scoot…

“Puck?”

He popped around the corner with a blueberry Freeze Pop and my scissors…

“Did you finish your tuna yet, Puck?”

Lunch had been… extended… that afternoon.

“Uhm…”

The guilt was avalanching. I waited…

“I… I threw it out the window I’m sorry Mom I’m really sorry can I eat something else instead so I can have my Freeze Pop?”

Threw it out the window…

Calvin.

“Can we walk to the library, Mom?”

“Not today, bud.”

“Then I’ll walk beside the car. Ok, Mom?”

Puck wandered up and down the road, finally planting his Strider at the driveway of the little girl’s house across the street, waiting for her to come out and play again.

Rice bowls for dinner.

The Bear sat Puck down to present the idea of an “allowance”. Despite previously shunning the concept – and never having been raised with allowances ourselves – The Bear had established the “ten dimes a week” plan as part of Puck’s identity as the “job of being a boy”, etc.

Puck was not impressed…

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t want it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t need it. I already have enough coins in my piggy bank.”

The only kid in the world…

We re-introduced the concept of charitable donation.