Crisis of the Bubble Bath
In my dream, I was sitting in a car in a car garage, followed by a group of protesters who blasted me with a powerful applesauce cannon. It was effective.
Half the Christmas presents were wrapped in brown paper and red curling ribbon, lined up on the piano, by the time the boys finished washing dishes for me that morning. Puck dried, still in his outer space footie pajamas. But productivity holds hands with destruction. Probably in any house that boasts a six year-old boy who thinks he’s helping:
Uproarious laughter.
“AH HA HA HA HA! MOM! COME LOOK! I MADE THE TUB A SOAP-TUB AND CRACKERS WAS IN IT AND SHE HAS SOAP PAWS NOW! AH HA HA HA!”
Bær joined the scene in the upside-down bathroom. “Puck!”
“I put Crackers in my soap world and she tracked soapy paws all over the floor.”
No matter how much Crackers shook her limbs, this wouldn’t be an easy fix. I tried to take out the soap with a wet towel, but that didn’t help so much. I think she was a little indignant. Or maybe just depressed. She sat in a corner and meowed.
Puck and I split a ham and cheese sandwich from Hardee’s at the Silverspoon’s. Theodore read about a time traveler on the Mayflower to Puck, playing with his “satellite” on the black and gray hombre rug in front of the fire. Gloria came back from the office in time to catch Bær for a few minutes before he joined a friend from church and Rose at a taqueria and microbrewery. The rest of Puck’s evening was spent shouting over the speakerphone landline, playing Minecraft with his South African buddy from church. Even with the door shut, from the office to the kitchen, the conversation was loud and clear.
When Gloria dropped us off at home – after a huge house tour and show-and-tell from Puck – I quickly realized that Crackers was miserable. The soap had never entirely been removed from the morning’s fiasco. Puck and I took measures, cat claws flying. One terrified cat later, I just hoped I had removed enough of the caked in watermelon bubble bath. An hour later, I believe Crackers had forgiven me.
Puck’s Blog: Day #12
I played Minecraft … a whole lot, past, like half past an hour, right Mom? … Well, just let me put it this way, I’m going to be an inventor when I grow up. The end.