Ch. 246; Vol. 10
Twenty-five.
How am I old enough to have a younger 25 year-old brother?
Puck tattled on Bær that morning, just walked out the door.
“Dad didn’t bring lunch with him today.”
“I know. I guess he just has other plans.”
Puck wasn’t happy about this, and – in great concern for his father’s health – flung open the front door. “YOU’RE GOING TO BE A VERY HUNGRY MAN!!” Slam door; reopen. “I’M VERY SERIOUS!!”
I wondered what the rest of the neighborhood thought.
I guess Puck wasn’t overly concerned about the family’s health, however, when at math he sneezed again into the air.
“Puck, it’s Cold and Flu Season again. You can’t do that.”
What would people think?
Puck stared at me. “How do you know their name?”
Sometimes Puck’s brain processes on levels I’m not sure I’ve visited. On Monday when I paused for a mini lecture on “Not Arguing with Your Mother”, I grasped at a weak analogy equating Puck with an Ant, and Myself with… the Sun.
“Now, can an Ant do anything to change the Sun, Puck?”
I was really reaching here.
“Nope. But… if I was an ant, I could go to NASA and get a rocket and fly to the sun and blow it up!”
Rabbit-teeth grin.
I guess you might say he’s taken a variety of classes from the Rose School of Witty Comebacks, including yesterday when Uncle Mo prayed for dinner, highlighting a focus on the life to come and Rose responded with, “Are you trying to tell us something about the food?”
Forty-five minutes at the park: another friend. Puck fathered him into the art of whacking bouncy balls and golf balls across the playground with his putter, chortling in conversation with the young chap’s mother as he slapped another ball between the jungle gyms…
“Have to make enough energy for the kids,” Puck plucked the collar of his t-shirt as the boy tore after the object. “But it’s healthy though.”
After his social hour, Puck buckled himself back into his seat for a ride through grocery land. As the pavement flashed, he announced to me that, “I’ve got a hard bump in my cheek, Mom!”
Molar.
And here I always thought they were dormant until twelve.
Walking the parking lot – a cart of goodies like canned pumpkin, dark chocolate, peanuts – an unlooking gold car rammed backwards without a warning. I hopped us out of the way, Puck further away than myself, fortunately. A man walking his cart to the stable, paused in the middle of the lot, sort of shocked…
“Wow…”
I’m pretty sure I made a frightening face at him, the I-almost-got-killed look.
Bær read Puck down for the night with more Winnie the Pooh, a favorite between the two now, before a ripe avocado. The Planty Dessert.
And while Bær padded me with Keebler E.L.Fudge cookies – fiend! – and watched an Anthony-Hopkins-toy-reviewer explain Japanese hand zipper bags, I had time [after drawing up a lepidoteran visit to Angola] to wrap up the day with a little Korean after all. Any language where “Your Highness” translates as “MawMaw”…
It gets dark faster now. Around eight or earlier. Autumn is coming in a couple of weeks, which means strings of holidays and Post Season.
