Don't Diet, Dad
By the time I got up, Puck was already blading through the house in taco truck t-shirt, using Grandma Snicketts’ cane and his old bed rails as props while urging me to decorate more for holidays that weren’t Christmas. Between laps, he had built Crackers a “Crackers-topia” on top of the fridge with cushions and kitchen towels.
“It’s sort of like a spa for her.”
I passed El Oso his breakfast plate: two hard-boiled eggs, no salt.
“What!” Puck was apparently highly amused that I wouldn’t offer this particular condiment. “Why can’t he have salt?”
“Because he’s on a diet.”
El Oso didn’t look completely thrilled, but he didn’t look like he cared that much either. While he started in on the lusterless eggs, Puck gave encouraging advice.
“Why don’t you break the diet, Dad? You know you don’t want to live in diet. Diet is so dull and boring. You know you don’t want to do it.”
Rah, rah, rah.
Puck straggled through writing later that morning. Not because he didn’t want to do it, but because he was “artistry-ing” every letter with flourishes and pictures.
“Look at that ‘n.’ He’s just shootin’ the breeze, watchin’ some T.V. And this guy is actually a…” :whisper: “secret agent!”
Carrie texted me late in the morning. Linus, in a sparkling summer sports-photography internship downtown, got to play Jon Jay’s shadow all morning at a local hospital while he visited kids. Lucky. Said like Napoleon Dynamite, of course.
Puck and I took a short detour from our usual afternoon to drop off a pair of game tickets at the Big House. Rose and Ricky were joining our party at the stadium Friday night, and needed the tickets in advance.
While we were there, Francis coaxed Puck into taking the go-cart for a spin. And while the episode ended in angry tears for Puck, he still managed to effectively drive the thing back up the street with accolades from Francis.
Anna and Eddie weren’t home to play when we got back. Anna who, yesterday, was still wearing Puck’s old cowboy boots I gave her this week. And a Chinese coin made into a necklace which she apparently wears daily now, a pass-off from last week when she rummaged through my foreign coin collection, now owned by Irish.
So I cut Puck’s hair instead. He was so happy about that. To make up for it, a hot shower, old 1970 jewel thief film, and more Lego creations of monster trucks and rocket-based vehicles.