December 22
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The last day at home before the madness of, more or less, nine or ten Christmas celebrations, official and unofficial, ensued.
Days at home were sort of like small vacations. In reality, Collette could sleep in if needed, leisurely breakfast with Puck, and then, truly, whatever they wanted, provided it took place within walking distance of their little house, which Collette often referred to, affectionately, as The Cracker Box. But let it not be said that such things did not involve much effort and hard work with the accompaniment of, what the Snicketts’ Christmas letter that year had labeled, a very active three year-old.
Puck was up early. He was instructed to stay in his bed until it was time to wake up. He subsequently decided to continue a conversation from down the hall with his mama.
“No more talking, Puck,” OLeif said.
“But, Daddy, I’m yelling, not talking.”
He already had his father’s knack of thinking outside of the box. Apparently.
And then he could be heard talking to himself…
“I’m running out of time. I’m running out of time.”
At breakfast…
OLeif opened his new pair of Skechers and removed the plastic liners. Puck was immediately intrigued.
“What are these?” he asked. “Shoombnah promners?”
They finally discovered that he was asking if they were Shoe Thermometers.
And then, after he had sneezed…
“I achoo-ed, Daddy!”
After which, his banana slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor, after having brushed his sweatpants. Puck began to squeal at the sight of the Musa acuminata carnage.
Then before OLeif left for work, he brought up Puck’s old sunshine yellow rocking chair from the basement to re-install in Puck’s room. He was absolutely thrilled.
“Mama rocked me in this for four days!” he declared happily.
Into the day…
Collette taught Puck how to use chopsticks, when he found them buried in the small utensil drawer.
A brief phone consultation with Joe, who flatly refused to take Intro to Poetry in the spring. He had been quoted as saying…
“I would kill myself.”
Which Collette found rather ironic given all of the ridiculous poetry he had written himself over the years… And so Collette, as his academic counselor, had suggested U.S. History After 1877 as an alternative. He agreed.
Time to wrap gifts. Trader Joe’s brown paper bags and curling ribbon. Soon, a pile of presents, looking as though they came out of a dry goods store from the 1910’s, was sitting stacked on the piano.
Out into the cold once more. 28.9 degrees. And Collette felt almost silly for taking her son on a bike ride. But fresh air was good. And Puck loved his bike.
Back home to a warm house and a heated humidifier.
Into the afternoon…
A jog.
The mail, bringing a Christmas card from Laurel Peach with a generous Christmas check for Puck. She was always so kind to remember him.
And Collette painted new pages on Index cards with watercolors for the butterfly around the world book for Puck that he liked so much.
It was pancakes for supper.
As Collette rooted through the cabinets for ingredients, she noted that there was an appalling amount of ancient baking powder still sitting there, collecting spice dust. Three full tins. Hardly touched. One expired in 2008. The other croaked in 2007. Somehow. Not long later, a plate of fluffy pancakes was waiting to be devoured. With the non-expired baking powder. But there was, alas, no more maple syrup.
Following dinner, Mom, Joe, and the kids dropped by to pick up the box of Puck’s cardboard building blocks, which Mom would be adding to the children’s corner in the barn for the Snicketts-Black Christmas celebration.
And OLeif was out for his weekly ‘man night’ with his dudes downtown, after dropping by Pier 1 for Chet Danger (who could have been the twin of Elazar Moss) to purchase a Christmas gift for his wife, who was a newly gourmet chef.
In good news of the day, Grandma’s back was feeling better. And Aunt Tuuli’s second back surgery was successful.