Chapter One Hundred Seven
“Come on, Puck. Finish your strawberry bread and your milk. We’ve got to go.”
“Ok, Mom. Just a mentos. But I’ve got to conquer the world.”
This guy had been up since six. I opened my eyes to see him staring, inches from my face, chin propped in two big hands…
“Where’s my hand boiler?”
Hiccup.
“I’ll need to go to sleep really early tonight,” The Bear told me, about ten minutes after he woke up. “I’m just super tired.”
“I will have to go to bed right when we get home, too!” Puck announced with gusto. “We’re on the same TEAM, DAD!”
They shared a grin. Hiccup.
“There’s no milk in here,” Carrie said, her head stuck in the fridge. “Francis needs a pet cow.”
Puck was making plans to wake up that same Francis…
“Grandma, you wake up Lila, because she’s the stuvvorness. And I will wake up Fran.”
I remember waking up the kids every morning all those years ago. The days when they all slept in to ungodly hours whenever they had the chance. My Chinese gong was usually pretty effective in that department. Especially if placed close to the ears. If that didn’t work, I slipped a cassette tape from Evita into the old boom box and blasted the pretty obnoxious and sometimes screechy “And the Money Kept Rolling In”. A very certain recording that hosted a particularly annoying chorus. To this day, I can still not find that exact same recording. [Although it might possibly be the Original London Cast from 1976.] Anyway, and then if that didn’t work, a bag of frozen peas on the neck was always my highly effective back-up. Then again, Dad and Uncle Balthasar used to wake up Aunt Corliss by blasting a record of train whistles from around the world right by her head… so…
Joe hunted up a salad in the fridge for breakfast, then changed his mind when he discovered there was no Ranch left. It was time to get groceries. He was meeting up with his lady and friends for laser tag that night.
“Then Thunderbird and I are having a man-date,” he exclaimed with his ridiculous smile.
I think he has more dates with Thunderbird than with Jaya.
A dense fog was still holding up as Puck marched over to the counter at T.J. Maxx with his new pair of blue handsewn once thirty-four dollar English Laundry shorts.
Hiccup.
“Oh, you have the hiccups!” the lady at the counter exclaimed. “How about a piece of candy to help that?”
I agreed. Puck pulled a mini Three Muskateers from the ziploc and munched. Hiccups immediately cured.
“Oh…” the lady looked over a shirt Mom had put on the counter with no tags. “You know… I think someone must have stolen a shirt and left theirs instead. They do that sometimes…”
“They SHOULDN’T DO THAT!” Puck declared.
“That’s right! They shouldn’t!” the lady agreed, and slapped him a high five.
We loaded up on birthday ideas at Aldi for our rain storm day at home tomorrow, Puck’s choice – fat pretzel sticks, peanut M&Ms, thick sliced bacon, baby seedless watermelon, and a small POM pomegranate juice. I also added mayonnaise, raspberry preserves, and a pepperoni marinara mozzarella. The purple smoke trees, climbing wisteria, raspberries, and blue hydrangea cuttings were also tempting. But our soil is terrible.
Driving the back road, the radio blitzed another Tornado Watch till three o’clock, which later extended till 10pm. We were on a roll. 81 degrees one day, 49 two days later. It was St. Louis Spring. And we loved it.
“Could be from an inverted temperature layer,” Carrie mused as we passed the open yellow field.
Spinach and goat cheese pizza for lunch.
Around a handful of UNO games with Linnea [who requested another fat Nutella sandwich; she loves her Nutella sandwiches] and myself, Puck wanted “game time with Sun”. Carrie had a bribe waiting for him…
“First, we have to have the five year-old snuggle. Because it will never ever happen again in your entire life.”
“Maybe up in Heaven…”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But… do you want presents for your birthday? Well, then you have to do it. It’s for tradition.”
He took the snuggle.
And there were no tornadoes.
