Chapter Ninety-Two
I was being a nerd and sports nut simultaneously this morning. I’m not sure this combination is meant to exist. But sort of like the Paradox Machine, it does. I managed to quickly check in on the Cards’ 2-6 loss against Arizona while sifting through the press coverage on David Tennant’s and Billie Piper’s return to Doctor Who for the 50th anniversary episode in November. I’m not sure if that qualifies me for Dork, Nerd, Geek, or Freak. But I can live with any of those labels. At least temporarily. Most people are willing to risk that around here for either baseball or sci-fi. Or both.
Meanwhile, it was about 28 degrees when we cracked open the front door.
Puck plowed into a short tub of baby carrots at Rose’s kitchen table. I caught up on things after an hour conversation about future plans with The Bear on the convoluted traffic-packed drive into the city. We had spent Monday evening watching “Crooked Arrows” about a First Nations lacrosse team, after Puck and I had learned a little about the Swiss government in the 1950’s. That was unintentional. Although seven annually rotating presidents might not be all a half-bad idea. Oh, and that asparagus-potato-sausage-y thing was a hit. Even Puck ate it, and he won’t intentionally touch anything with “spice” in it.
Anyway, Puck and I got down to businesses. Namely, eating things. Well. Puck. Eating things. And preventing him from tying Rose’s USB cable into knots, because he just does these things without thinking about it. Before we had to pick up The Bear for another chiropractic appointment off Delmar.
“Let’s go jogging, Mom,” he asked me with a sweet buttery look on his face.
I knew he just wanted to test out his super grip red shoes. But jogging on the second story of an apartment building where you can hear the hair dryer and smell the Thai down the hall, is probably not an awesome idea.
“You don’t want us to get Rose kicked out of her apartment, do you?”
…is usually the catchphrase I dish out when Puck starts to get loud. “Starts”.
“We should make this our Tuesday tradition.”
I couldn’t help but suggestion it as I held the fat roast beef sandwich in one hand, and layered it with salt and cracked pepper chips in another. Cold Simply Apple apple juice. King size Reeses pack. Who wouldn’t want to have this every Tuesday? Within reason. But The Bear agreed with me.
Puck came over to put an arm around my shoulder.
ZAP.
I’m like a running electric charge every time it gets cold out. Sometimes even when it’s not so cold out…
“You have electricity in you,” Puck told me, as if in congratulations. “I’ll shock you next time.”
Two hours later we stalked back over from walking the Zoo. Fish, elephants, big cats, leopards, panthers, groundhogs, one smashed shiny penny printed with a penguin…
We took a shortcut through Turtle Park. Puck careened down the snake’s back and landed on his hands – for the second time that day – in the gravel. This time, he cut his hand and whimpered a little…
“Are you a mouse or a man?” I asked him.
I guess I’m not always super sympathetic.
“A mouse,” he answered, without apology. “Onion has band-aids DOESN’T SHE?!”
I wasn’t convinced she did, but a look in the bathroom cabinet revealed a box of fancy fabric band-aids. I should have known. Rose only gets the best stuff. I also wonder sometimes why I don’t carry Neosporin and band-aids with me at all times. And then I remember – to keep him from being a mouse.
“Found one, pal. Make sure this stays on. I don’t want to waste any more of Onion’s nice band-aids.”
But Puck wasn’t listening…
“Oh, Thank you, Lord,” he declared in full sincerity.
“Don’t take this off now,” I reminded him.
“Hm-mmm… Thank You, Lord. Thank You SO much.”
After project managing about seven or eight kids back on the cement turtles for half an hour or more, i.e. which routes were the safest, who should slide down the turtle’s back, and how, when, and where, we left to pick up The Bear at the end of the day… where he also got busy project managing Curly’s wedding and the road trip to Nashville six weeks in advance, and if we should bring lunch, how long it would take to drive there…
“Four hours, son.”
“Five I think, Dad. Are we going to miss church that day?”
“We might…”
“Oh no! We are going to have to play HOOKY!”
As we finished reading the lesson from Genesis 5 that evening, Puck decided that he didn’t want to have to die to go to Heaven. He wanted to be like Enoch…
“It’s ok,” The Bear told him. “Everyone else will be there who loves you already.”
Puck seemed ok with this, and made one more note…
“But not Goliath.”