Chapter One Hundred Two
“OLD MACDONALD HAD A FARM! E-I-E-I-O!”
Why had I thought letting Puck bunk down in the king-size bed overnight was a good idea…?
“OLD MACDONALD HAD A FARM! E-I-E-I-O!… TAE KWON DO!”
Maybe I had hit the hay a little late the previous night. 58 pages into Eben Alexander – just for the intrigue, mind; nothing more – it was past my bedtime, and I couldn’t put it down, but I did anyway.
I don’t know how it happened, but despite 65 mph recorded winds in our side of town Wednesday night, all that had accounted for it was a street-ful of stinky crabapple blossoms.
Six hours at The Magic House.
Idlewild and Annelise were waiting at the Members Only entrance because they were getting us in for free. We slapped on a purple sticker apiece, wormed through the tangles of children, to places of wonder and fancy. For Puck and Anneliese, definitely. I’m no talker, but Idlewild and I hadn’t talked in a long time. So we had some highway and back roads to review.
“COME ON ANNELIESE! LET’S CHECK OUT THE SHADOW ROOM!”
If I ever need to find my son, and there were plenty of times I needed to find him today, it didn’t take much effort. His voice, as I think I described it Wednesday night, could be a tornado siren. The green shirt and red shoes also helped. Dressing young boys in bright colors is always a very good idea.
Water, sand, rubber chips, clay, rocks, foam bricks, balls, vacuums, chimes, lights, bubbles… an imagination station. And for it being Puck’s first time, six hours was a decent start.
“Do you want any strawberries, ANNELIESE!”
It didn’t matter that she was sitting right next to him on a red bench in the lobby. He had to yell it. And she didn’t care, either. They brought Subway sandwiches and water bottles to split. We brought cuties and strawberries to split.
Then the kids attacked another level.
They’re not that different, really. While they explored the heights of a carpeted beanstalk, I learned that Anneliese is also not allowed to drink soda, also has a bedtime of seven o’clock, and also does school four days a week. I guess I’m not the only mom who does things the “why-do-you-do-that?” way.
“MOM CAN WE GET A LITTLE SOMETHING AT THE GIFT SHOP!”
I have to hand it to the kid. He behaved himself pretty well. Until he asked to buy something about ten times in the gift shop. But life can be tempting sometimes. Even I was a little fascinated with the bins of miniature rubber animals – elephants, sea horses, clown fish, puffer fish, giraffes, and other things.
We stayed for an extra hour after the girls left, because The Bear’s flight was late. Puck found an immediate friend at the Lewis & Clark exhibit. [A miniature “Awesome” from Israel days.] They teamed up to burglarize the campsite of all tin plates, cups, river trout, bison meat, trunks, boxes, and barrels. Somehow they missed the trunks of buckskin clothes and Civil War uniforms. Smugglers.
“HURRY BEFORE ANYONE ELSE COMES TO TAKE THIS STUFF!”
This time, my son wasn’t the only one conspiring at least. The other boy was just as eager to slink off between the tents and teepee with a slab of rubber meat under one arm and three fish in the other. By the time we left, they had packed one Civil War-style tent with enough trunks and boxes to make it all the way to the Pacific. No problem.
When The Bear landed in from Philly over an hour late, we were waiting for him. Cool, gray. Dinner on the way home. We were happy to have him back. Including the glass trophy-plaque-like award for The Bear’s department which he had received at the conference, or whatever it was. I’m not really sure. In fact, I’m really still even sure what the award was specifically for…
“You should get one of those rotating light-up bases that Grandma’s bought at Nagle’s before,” Carrie advised. “Just let it spin around at your desk.”
“Or weld it to a hat and wear it around everywhere,” Joe added.
We hadn’t done movie night in awhile. Carrie, Joe, Rose, ice cream sandwiches and chips. A little comedy. A cat. A cat snuggled inside Joe’s hoodie, that is, after being claw-clipped by Rose and cuddled by Carrie.
“They’re on crack!”
Rose’s answer to the world. This time she was referring to the television, at least.