Ch. 231; Vol. 10

“That’s a lot of milk, bud…”

The youngster passed me by with a glass of watery white liquid.

“It’s not milk, Mom. It’s glue.”

It was already twelve o’clock. Puck and I had just finished reading about how glass is made.

“Alright, man. Time for lunch.”

“What are we having, Mom?”

“Peanut butter.”

“Ok… I’ll take peanut butter! Since tuna is my worst enemy!”

Puck arranged a grooming station for Crackers after the meal.

Crackers spilled over in rumbling purrs, gnawing at the wood handle of The Bear’s hair brush.

[He has two.]

But there was Quiet Hour to consider – and avoid…

“What are you looking for, Puck?”

“A paper bag.”

“Why?”

“I want to make a hand puppet for Crackers.”

Puck was all ready to attack three o’clock groceries with me, flip-flops marching importantly down the aisles, Chick-Fil-A cow wristwatch, and pointing out the benefits of various items stocked within reach, including his weekly Fruit Buddy. He takes his time picking the perfect flavor while I stock up on produce. This time, he held up the mango version. I think…

“It contains very healthy!” he pointed to the picture on the front.

About ten minutes later while we waited in the check-out, he found a row of hand-sized Etch-A-Sketches squeezed on the shelves of lighters and beef jerky…

“Don’t even ask, man.”

“Don’t you want to see beautiful creations?!”

This is the kid who also tried to convince me that cheese sticks would be a good “option” for “dessert”.

The friendly German checker handed me the receipt, and another Monday shop-day was complete.

Somewhere in the middle of mixing guacamole, pulling chicken out of the oven, trying to get the stovetop to light, and researching genealogical stuff…

We experienced a mild disaster down the hall.

There is probably no more helpless a feeling that watching bathroom linoleum flood with unmentionable waters…

“PUCK!”

“I’M SORRY, MOM! I’M SORRY! IT CLOGGED! I DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD DO THAT!!!! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!”

Two desperate arms death-gripped my waist as I threw half a dozen towels and bottles of disinfectant into the bathroom, hoping that Crackers hadn’t found the uncovered bowl of guacamole sitting on the counter.

“Why did you do that, man?!”

I was one mad mama.

“I’M SORRY!”

The kid’s lip was practically quivering under that one dangling loose tooth he’s too afraid to have The Bear yank out for him. This wasn’t going to work.

“I know, I know, I know you’re sorry.”

Downstairs revealed more devastation near the drain pipe, only a foot from the baskets of clean laundry.

Blug.

I guess we forgive and forget pretty quickly around here, even after disasters involving much bleach and disinfectant.

Because there were fresh blueberries for dinner.

A few minutes before his bedtime, Puck and The Bear were folding miniature silver airplanes out of Hershey’s milk chocolate nugget foils.

What can you do about boys? It’s just going to happen that way.