Chapter Ninety-Three
Crash.
Splash.
Dribble, dribble, dribble…
Of course we were in the act of walking out the door, and Crackers splashed my red roses all over the table. Our theory was that she was seeking water. So that delayed our morning a little.
We walked in late to Mom’s and Dad’s just as Joe was leaving for another day at the library. Puck opened the Puck and Grandma Box to find three finger lights in red, green, and blue. Linnea walked out and crashed on the floor in a wrap of blankets while Mom displayed a box of animal Easter eggs she had made about thirty years ago. I attribute their survival only to the fact that they had been in Grandma Combs’ possession for an extended period of time.
Sometimes you blink, and a few hours are gone. I ended up out in Manchester with Carrie, leaving Puck with Linnea because he still had a stomachache from all the spicy Italian sausage at Monday and Tuesday nights’ dinner. So anyway, we made a stop in Creve Coeur and then back west again to Grandma Snicketts’. Took out her trash, picked up her grocery list, and Schnuck’s for things like “baking potatoes” and chicken fingers from the deli.
“I’ll treat you to lunch if you want to pick something up,” Grandma had told us on our way out.
So we added Steak ‘n Shake to the to do list – grilled cheese and fries for Carrie and me [because we’re high rollers], and a steakburger for Grandma, right as The Bear called me, just out of class…
“Got a 69.75% on the midterm,” he told me.
…which was about 20% higher than we expected, providing breathing room for the final, two days after Curly’s wedding.
We lunched with Grandma, helped her hunt up some stamps of Washington D.C. framed in spring cherry blossoms, now that Uncle Balthasar and Aunt Tuuli had filed away all of her papers, and hit the road back to some unashamed Bollywood tunes through high bluff country.
Puck was busy in worlds of Playmobil and blocks on the living room floor while Mom napped. And because Curly and Lulu had requested some artwork from him – crayons and notebook paper style – I set him up at the kitchen table with a box of bright colors and some advice on how to write up Lulu’s senior recital poster advertisement. Somehow, he got through the whole project in about half an hour I think, which I chalked up as his writing lesson for the day, with minimal delay. And help from Carrie to scan in the whole thing right. Although I got the idea, afterwards, that being a Kindergarten art teacher must be one of the worst jobs in the world.
“HA HA HA HA HA!” was all Puck had to say after about his fifth stick figure holding a violin attempt.
Probably mostly because the “violin” resembled more of a chainsaw, and Lulu’s hair more like Big Bird had just molted on her head. He had other important things to do too before his afternoon was a wrap, reading words like “compassion” and “creation”. Sometimes there is still nothing easier than teaching Kindergarten. And I raided Puck’s forgotten Easter chocolates…
“Taking after your father, I see,” Mom commented.
“Hey. Don’t put chocolate in front of me,” is my typical response.
“Any blow pops in there?” Carrie asked, lying flat on the bench.
After a quick homemade chicken salad on Hawai’ian rolls, we were out the door for the last Truth Project at church. There’s something deeply satisfying and inspiring about hearing richness, and there was a lot richness in that twelve-part series. I talked for a little while with the Lewis’ about adoption and the poverty in Honduras and Belize, where they had just vacationed…
“I don’t mean to be flippant,” Misty-Hanna said, “It was my first time out of the country. But I just wish I could gather up all those kids and take them home.”
Puck was still crafting when I picked him up at 7:30. He held up his cardboard shield carefully plastered with stickers and crayon markings on the ride home…
“This honors God,” he informed us, holding it up. “But not as much as the Bible. That’s why I put… as many crosses on it, as I could.”