Chapter Thirty-Six
Rose texted me at 5:48AM.
“I’m sick.”
The bad cold sick. Of course she still went to work. But she was stocked with broth and tea for a hoped-for half-day. So our original plan to use her apartment as home base for the day had been adjusted. I boiled eggs in the early morning light that quickly switched into pale gray-blue skies. Puck administered Crackers’ breakfast, which always turns out to be more of an elaborate ordeal than is really necessary.
I guess it was appropriate that on Dad’s birthday we would visit…
The St. Louis Science Center
Imagine a substantial echo reverberating off that title. Even those words sounded like magic to all of us as kids. Still do, really. About twice a year Dad would take us down early on a Friday evening and we’d wait in line for tickets to the Omnimax. Just the excitement of walking past the giant projector housed behind glass, picking the perfect seat in the carpeted stands, listening to the membership lecture from Erwin, the guy who wore the crazy hats from the gift shop… And then the plunge into digital outer space, all before the fantastic feature. We weren’t there for a feature today, but Puck didn’t even notice that omission, because there was too much to do. He eagerly joined the preschoolers for a show on cryogenics on the first floor, choosing the periodic table of elements stool labeled “Aluminum” for his post of the half-hour magic of liquid nitrogen. Halfway through, they watched in awe as the goofy young man in mustache and glasses behind the table froze cheese puffs in a styrofoam cup…
“I do not believe I should deprive myself of the joy of eating this cheese puff just because it is flash frozen,” he declared, as the equivalent of smoke burst out his nostrils, much to the kids’ delight.
Then ice cubes, a balloon, a bouncy ball…
“How do you know this ball is bouncing right now?” he asked.
“Because it’s bouncing against the floor!” Puck shouted out.
“Hmm… That’s actually very good,” the man replied thoughtfully. “Most people just say it’s bouncing because they can see it bouncing. I’m proud of you.”
I made him run back to say thank you after it was over.
Puck had more people to meet and places to be. Hot dogs with The Bear in the cafeteria at the same table with Red Strike and two other buddies who were just finishing their own lunches. We might have dropped by the vending machine for jumbo Kit-Kat [me] and a small package of cookies for Puck. He shared some with me…
“I know what’s in your head, Mom.”
“You do?”
“You’re going to wake up early and eat the rest of them, aren’t you?”
We had the whole afternoon, still. A walk by the cold lake, a run up Art Hill for Puck to watch a gray-bearded gentleman fly a kite. A stroll through the art museum…
“Mom? Why is there so much naked people?”
We seem to be on a role these days… On the way out, Puck got to fly the kite for a minute…
“It’s taller than the Arch?” he squeaked when the man told him that fact, just as Esmerelda, the black police horse, came trotting up the hill.
Round Two of the Science Center was upon us. I guess Puck also had fun telling people about important pieces of information, like…
“Excuse me, but did you lose your kid? He went that way.”
Of course my favorite exhibit was no longer present. The computer you could ask any question, via typed text, which I could spend hours trying to confuse by hen-pecking inquiries such as…
“Do you believe in God?”
I’m guessing they removed that software for liability reasons. Now I think my favorite piece is the laser harp. And then there’s that 1980’s film and earthquake demonstration, rumbling somewhere between the fog tornado and plastic pile of glowing volcano rocks. I’m sure they haven’t tweaked a single item in that wing in 30 years. Puck tried the flight simulators, run by a grandpa-aged gentleman with gray hair, looking over the tops of his glasses. I checked out the menu at the sandwich cafe while Puck ran the gerbil wheel with another blonde boy. Fat Italian arrangements on soft focaccia. Something called soy nut butter and fresh strawberries on gluten free bread. For kids…
We had just enough time to catch an hour at the park down the road from The Bear’s work. Puck made friends in a flash. Both boys were soon stomach-down on the flying saucer swing as I continued pushing it back and forth. Almost immediately, they dreamed up a land of imagination that took no convincing either one of its reality…
“The Silver Arrow shot his arrow into the sky!”
“Yeah! Look he just transported that light pole over there to fall over!”
“Hey! He put those flags up on that roof!”
“He’s going to explode the Earth!”
“No, he’s going to drop a bomb into the Earth and blow a hole into it like a drill and then it will explode!”
“No, and then the middle of the Earth will not be hot anymore and it will explode!”
But then the new friend had to leave, with his young nanny in sporty clamdiggers, a fleece, and black Nikes. Homework and a chocolate shop, instead of Starbuck’s for brownies, apparently…
“Chocolate coins! Chocolate coins!” the kid jumped up and down, excited, as he said goodbye to Puck.
A Clayton sunset. Half-warm quesadillas on the ride home. We called Dad to wish him a happy birthday. Carrie had made French toast and bacon for their dinner. Then Puck dismembering Dad’s old 1980’s film camera which had been bequeathed to him…
“I’m a take-apart man,” he told The Bear importantly.
Joe had IM-d me in my absence…
“Snuggles threw up… [Francis] decided to give him tons of ham today… Which I had to clean up with the shop vac… I dream a dream where my shirts/shorts/socks/underwear are only placed in my closet and I don’t have to walk through a half eaten moldy burgerland mixed with the spray of adolescent flirtation tactics in aerosol can just to lift weights.”
The Bear picked up a bag of Schnuck’s bakery chocolate, gooey butter, and red velvet cookies tonight. Circles of delicious black, red, and yellow goodness.