Dole out the Hours
Monday, March 26, 2012
The usual 1.5 hours waiting for Puck to finish his oatmeal. Similar to the fiasco of Francis and Linnea the previous afternoon, Puck was not allowed to leave the table until all remnants of edibles had been consumed.
So…
A quiet day…
Yup.
Puck’s hands weren’t sap-stained anymore from Saturday afternoon.
Rose checked in that Madeline had a cracked tooth. She had spent the previous day walking to the World’s Fair Pavilion in Forest Park where all the trees were abloom. Joe and Magnus had joined her that evening.
Spanish with Puck during a quiet lunch that exhibited a blue bird and several squirrels wandered in from the interior of the neighborhood.
Always enough to do…
Some days were just less animated than others.
The afternoon was fine.
All hidden by canopies of greens and yellows.
Bumbles buzzed.
Lawn mowers whirred.
That balmy, balmy breeze…
Puck amused himself hunkered down on the driveway allowing ants to take rides around the yard on his fingers. He giggled, endlessly muttering his Spanish lesson from the early afternoon in slightly garbled pronunciation…
“¿Es usted Norte Americano? ¿Es usted Norte Americano? ¿Es usted Norte Americano? ¿Es usted Norte Americano?”
Over and over and over and over…
The ants didn’t seem to mind, at least. As many took rides as Puck would allow…
“They must like you, buddy,” Collette told him.
They returned indoors for further reading, right before an unusual rain briefly poured through the sunshine.
Dinner called. Puck was enjoying the addition of green peas, or “beans”, as he still called them…
“I sucked up one of these and it went into my brain without me chewing it,” he explained, laughing.
OLeif returned, impressed that Collette had touched none of the chocolates lined as soldiers on the top of the piano. He switched on some Jerry Lee Lewis, which didn’t take long to get Puck dancing, arms punching the air, after he had asked permission to wash down the car with the garden house, because…
“It’s getting a little bit dirty.”
And while OLeif coaxed the mower motor back to life, Puck sat in the tufts of green grass, ready to watch the show.
That evening, OLeif attempted to get down to shut-eye by 8:30.
Collette spent her own hours reading Priscilla Presley’s autobiography, which Rose had left in their car over the weekend.