Ch. 267; Vol. 10
“BOO!”
It’s been happening every morning for awhile. I walk into Puck’s dark room to open the shades, and he’s already awake, trying to give me a small scare.
Never works of course.
But I “Boo!” right back.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Puck?”
It was mid-Monday afternoon on our way to the park in beautiful cool breeze and sun.
“I wasn’t grumpy yesterday.”
“You weren’t?”
“No… I was just a little mad that Grandma Snicketts died.”
Poor kid.
Then on top of that he finds out he won’t be seeing his buddies on Sunday mornings anymore – Louis or Mr. Knotts and all the others. I think he choked up a little.
We hit Target again in the afternoon; I wasn’t complaining. If you have to shop… This time it was Puck’s idea. He had a picture in his head of exactly what he wanted to get Linnea for her birthday present.
All the way home, he detailed the presents he would wrap for “Lila”, and how…
“I will wrap it in the tissue paper, Mom.”
“That sounds fine.”
“I will use the blue tape.”
Painter’s tape.
“Could I use Crackers’ box to wrap them in?”
“Well…”
“Oh! I forgot! I’m going to use tissue paper!”
He chuckled at himself.
“I will also give her all the acorns and rocks I collected in the box Papa gave me.” He thought about this for a moment. “Except. There will be one disappointment with it. She can’t have the box.”
Our last game of the season.
Puck and I made a last Trader Joe’s stop for 1.) Pistachios and Sparkling Water [Bær], 2.) Banana Chips [Puck], 3.) Milk Chocolate [Collette], and joined Bær at work.
Puck could already sense a particularly potent loudness in a traditionally enthusiastic crowd. For as loud as this kid is, he doesn’t appreciate the same trait in any other object…
“I guess I have to learn how to be a man so I don’t have to plug my ears anymore,” he told me solemnly.
Lightening glowed in the north.
Dad called me back about further funeral arrangements, right as Yadi hit an RBI double, of course. It took a minute before we could hear each other again.
Obviously the thing about observing a potential no-hitter by a rookie 22 year-old, is that the stadium becomes deafening with every increasing out. Puck plugged his ears…
“I HATE BASEBALL!!”
Fortunately, no one except me could hear what he was saying. Then I think he realized what he was saying. He walked past me with both ears still covered…
“I JUST HATE IT WHEN IT’S LOUD!! I DON’T REALLY HATE BASEBAAAALLLL!!”
Truly unfortunate… that almost no-hitter for young Mr. Wacha stayed “almost”. But Puck could at least uncover his ears.
Lightening blooming in the west all the way home. A few spots of showers. This was more like it.
