Ch. 259; Vol. 10
“Could I keep that dead moff [moth] for my collection?”
I think he’s asked me that twice now in 24 hours. This particular specimen was sitting on our doorstep, just waiting for a pack rat little boy to find it.
“No, Puck. You may not keep the moth.”
The first request had come right outside the front doors at church yesterday morning.
So in a week that earlier advertised “Thunder Likely” for Thursday, we were a little more optimistic for the week’s advent of autumn storm season.
Breakfast had just ended.
“Mom, I am just dehy-duh-rated for food. It’s like I didn’t have any water.”
“Peanuts?”
“Mom, that is just… peanuts are too dry…” arms moving up and down quickly for emphasis. “I just like… moist food. That’s sort of dry and sort of wet.”
He disappeared to put away his jams. A voice called back to me…
“There better be something cooked up for me when I come back! To eat foods!”
Someone had been hanging around Uncle Francis way too much.
Math was a similar story of Puck’s view on the world…
“Hmmm… your face looks like a five. And if you put your hands in there and your feet, you would look like a fourteen.”
“Would I…”
Reading Calvin & Hobbes aloud to himself in the loo…
And when we lightly discussed dreams with each other later that morning, the theory that dreams process the events of the day, Puck added his own opinion…
“I think those scientists are true because one night, um day, I watched Phineas and Ferb and it was about a time machine, and that night I dreamed about a time machine.”
Solved.
Carrie called me before bacon sandwiches at lunch. Grandma Snicketts had fallen, taken to the hospital for emergency surgery. It didn’t look great.
Bær came home not much later with a stomachache, working from his desk.
I was just getting over the three-day crisis of cankersore-induced immobility.
Around the time Puck and I finished the very last chapter of the very last Chronicle of Narnia volumes, Carrie texted me: Grandma came out of surgery successfully but might be completely paralyzed on her left side.
Two hours of errands later, Puck ran across the street to impress the young girlie friend with his brand new black-with-blue-soled running shoes while I made angel hair pasta with sauce from The Hill.
And of course, a little Andy Griffith with Dad. I think it’s become Puck’s new favorite show.
Gold lamplight.
Early darkness already coming.
Bær reading Winnie the Pooh to Puck in bed.