Ch. 250; Vol. 10

“I’m giving you raw fish, apples… and soup. Is that enough now, Dad?”

The sounds of Bær and Puck Saturday Morning Minecraft.

“We have to break the candles now, Dad, so we can go to sleep.”

Paige Popp pulled her chubby nine-month little girl from the stroller. Set her on the rubber padding of the playground.

“What is she doing?” Puck struggled to wrap his mind around the concept of a baby trying to stand up on her own.

“It’s ok, Puck,” Carrie laughed. “Take her hand and help her.”

Puck reached out a big paw, which she hesitantly took. “Mom, help! She’s wiggling!”

Ninety minutes on a warm Saturday morning, three kids, three adults, matchbox cars, Old Navy bouncers. I guess when Paige and I graduated high school ten years ago, I wouldn’t have thought our kids would run around the same metal jungle together one day.

A little girl pointed at Paige’s son. “Look out for your brother down there,” she advised Puck.

“He’s not my brother! He’s my cousin!”

I guess somewhere in the universe of Puck’s mind, younger friends are just cousins.

Allin’s Diner: St. Charles. Puck buried into my shoulders, trying to sit on my lap in the booth, shivering from the A/C in his muscle man shirt. Styrofoam cup of red fruit punch. Swinging his feet over a BLT. What kid eats the Bacon, Lettuce, Tomato, and leaves the bread? Ate my own Grilled Cheese & Bacon watching Southwest Flights float low towards Lambert.

Puck paused at the purple flower bush around the mailbox – bundles of bees and butterflies snacking in warm sun.

And Bær was gone before three, a few hours playing fiddle down the road with Atticus McCrae.

Puck roped me into building Legos – The Hanging Gardens of Babylon Spacecraft – “something pretty amazing”.

Carrie walked in with a big shiny silver bag, ready to fix nails in between taking Grewe to lunch in Marthasville [yes, another Philly’s] and finishing up the bathroom for Mom, who was just back from a weekend with Linnea’s volleyball tournament in Quincy, Illinois.

Izzy made an appearance to open two boxes of fancy business cards, back out for a carrot-y haircut. Then back again before the movies with friends.

Carousel on a rollercoaster.

Puck comfortably stashed in the cold basement with two warm blankets and Toy Story 2, packed with blueberries and strawberries. And then the discovery of – oh, wonders – ball “beariens” [bearings]!

“Look at all these BALL BEARIENS, Mom!”

“I know, bud.”

Gloria had recently dumped a small trash can of these relics, a few of which still lay scattered around the cement floor.

“I have to pick all these up, Mom. So if children run away from their parents because they are being disobedient and they come down here, they won’t step on them and hurt their feet.”

“I guess that’s maybe possible…”

“Yeah. I have to get all of them so little children don’t hurt their feet.”

“Well…”

“You should bring your laptop down here, Mom, so it can be a little show for you. While I pick up these ball beariens.”

“Ok…”

“Nana?” Puck stomped up the stair to display his finds. “You must have been a bad dumper! Look how much I still found!”

Gloria admired his efforts.

“The reason I am doing this, Nana, is to have collections. And so if a robber comes in, in his bare feet, he will walk on them.”

Pizza, with Bær back.

Chocolate chip cookie dough.

Kings and Queens.