Changes?

Mosquitoes were on the rampage in the house that morning. All this going in and out all day between Puck and the neighbor kids. He was biking hard before lunch again, the girls trailing on their scooters.

After lunch they came knocking on the door again.

“Can you play?”

“Uh, no. My mom’s going to check out a school for me. I’m going to Spanish school.”

“Spanish school? Ug! I hate Spanish.”

“You obviously don’t know what Spanish is. Do you?”

“Yeah I do! Spanish is this: hola.”

After Puck shut the door, I tried to clarify. “Puck, you’re not going to a Spanish school. We’re checking out a private school for you.”
He looked a little upset. “So. I just lied to my friends?”

More explaining.

While Puck spent his afternoon Minecraft-ing with Francis (before he left for another shift at work) and playing with more neighbors down the Big House road, I met up with El Oso to tour that “Spanish” school. After being home schooled both our entire lives, and doing the same for Puck through First Grade, we decided to check out new and unexplored territory.

An hour later, we discussed everything before splitting ways for the evening. If nothing else, I knew Puck would love the opportunity of an entire paint-splattered room stocked floor to ceiling with art supplies.

Puck and I talked a little more about the idea on the drive home. He was clearly more interested in finding an Ironman lunchbox than anything else. Sure, the idea of his own desk was intriguing, spending time with new friends, using iPads from time to time, etc. Then I mentioned the Lego Club. Eyes bugged.

That evening after Puck threw back a mighty man boxed lunch meal, or something like that – we stopped at Schnuck’s on the way home just because we could – and tore up pavement with friends on his bike before the chain popped off, he had one finally request before hitting the feathers.

“Mom? Can you text Dad something?”

“Sure. What?”

“Can you send him a smiley face and blah blah blah, and gibberish?”