December 1
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
5:14 a.m…
“Mama, I’m starving.”
Blinded by sonic screwdriver…
“Daddy, I’m going to help you dress this day.”
A new month, and time to get back to the books: an entire revision of the current, and expanding, 387-paged family genealogy, then a ten-year production in its first year of writ, also a personal fictitious work in journalized form, aimed at about 800 pages, to which Collette had been adding over the past three years, and finally a brainstorm to Puck’s future education in chronicle-template-format… She would be busy into the spring.
Meanwhile, out to the house…
Dad was taking Francis and Puck to visit Grandpa Snicketts and Grandma Snicketts, on their usual Wednesday routine.
Mom and Linnea-Irish were leaving for lunch at the Tecumseh’s, first for a soda stop… but not before Puck had been told by Francis to ‘jump on Linnea’. She came out not long later, quite fully awake, cherry red track pants, peacock feather tee, and red and white polka-dotted bow in her hair.
And from the living room came snatches of conversation between the girls…
“The Sumerians… yes, I like them. And the Babylonians.”
“The Greeks. And the Egyptians… Their architecture…”…
The crimes of cats…
“Now, here’s your second punishment,” Rose announced. “Look at me. Here’s your second punishment.”
“Here,” said Carrie. “Let me do it. Force eye contact.”
And Joe was out to work.
It was a very quiet couple of hours that morning, then, for Collette to tap away at the keys, while Carrie and Rose joined in their separate Age of Mythology battles on the basement computer and Francis’ laptop, a gift from Dad.
Everything was Christmas-ready. Twinkling lights, the tree full-lit and ornamented, poinsettias, pinecones, greenery, gingerbread men candles, snowmen candles, holiday wreaths. Snoozing cats. Fat and thin…
And the fruit flies seemed to be disappearing as well. Rose had covered all of the green plants in plastic.
Meanwhile, Rose had re-adjourned to the living room. She spoke to Snuggles…
“No, you can’t eat everything in the world. I’m sorry.”
In the afternoon…
Turkey and rice soup.
Carrie, in full Aztec mud face mask, tried to cajole a kiss from a less than enthusiastic Puck, who was sitting for a rather extended period of time in the corner for less than exemplary behavior.
Later, after she had washed away the mask, Puck was ready to give out a kiss.
“Where can the mud be?” he asked.
Dad scrounged for Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and White Cheez-Its.
And Carrie was wrapping more Christmas presents.
Church that evening was the kids’ Christmas party. And, as usual, Daisy-Jean had put together a nice celebration with her favorite, rather large, class of two, three, and four year-olds, including a manger scene, candy cane game, wrapped presents game of prayer books, yogurt, and lemonade.
And the evening finally came to a close with Puck down by 8:30.