Don't You Go Spoil Anything Now
Friday, April 6, 2012
It was cold; very cold, actually.
50’s in the early afternoon.
As in every other day, Puck was eager to help make the bed. He aided in straightening blankets and pillows, then sat in the window while Collette completed the details. Apparently she was less than 100% that day…
“Mama,” he giggled, pointing to an arching wrinkle. “You forgot some crumbles!”
After breakfast, with a pillow sack of treasures on his back, Puck patrolled the front yard from the window, waiting for the arrival of his grandma. Then without a word, he was out the door.
“Puck? What are you doing?”
He hustled back thirty seconds later, sack still on his back, wide-eyed…
“That squirrel is a thief! He was destroying our mailbox!”
A street cleaner followed closely behind. This was an oddity in the Wentzville suburbs. He made three passes.
“Wow! It knocked the wind out of the trees!” Puck declared.
Mom and Carrie-Bri turned up an hour later to dye Easter eggs, with “White Rabbit Pure Food Easter Egg Colors, a St. Louis Tradition since 1888”. There were also Easter goodies sent over by Grandma – a lunch box stuffed with taffy, licorice pipes, and basketball-shaped goldfish crackers for Puck. A Cardinal’s baseball PEZ for Collette. And from Mom – Easter grass and a chocolate bunny for Puck’s basket. Carrie, who had sent a photo of a tiny rainbow chicken to Puck the previous evening, produced a tiny carton of rainbow-colored bubblegum eggs from said chicken.
Two dozen eggs were prepared on the floor with rags and cups and vinegar, cold water, etc. Mom and Carrie argued over the best colors…
“Oh, Carrie. Not tie-dye.”
“Mom, you just think you have the best colors.”
“Oh, army green, Carrie?”
“Hey, I’m not done with it yet.”
“That one looks like a stone.”
“So?”
“I think I’m going to redye this one here.”
“Do you have something against pastels, Mom?”
“Wow!” Puck’s eyes grew wide at one particular color smash-up of pink and purple.
“Thank you,” Carrie replied.
“Did that come from a disaster?” Puck continued.
“Hey!”
There was plenty of dye remaining. Enough to splatter Puck’s gray sweatshirt. And a few socks. Mom dipped one sock into a few colors…
“Oh, so now you like tie-dye?” Carrie retorted.
Meanwhile, Carrie-Bri had been busy with further business conversations and research.
Puck requested more AWOLNATION before lunch as he got busy expelling energy…
“Mama. Stop the music. I make “sprinkles” [wrinkles] on your bed when I dance on it. Come help me solve it.”
Puck enjoyed the second Cards victory and opening day spoiler in Milwaukee with Collette that afternoon, creating his own commentary on the finer artistry of the game…
“What! That’s so silly! Every time he tries to bat… he catches it!”
“Wow! Don’t you think he should give somebody else a turn? He’s doing so much pitches!”
Magnus and Cassidy had already arrived when Joe and Rose turned up late with a jumbo bag of licorice and fruit snacks from Grandma Combs, as Joe had been washing stacks of moldy dishes at Yaotl’s house the entire afternoon.
Rose was busy complaining about AT&T…
“I could do better with yarn and a tin can.”
And with Magnus up for the selection, the six settled in for an hour and a half of criminals on the run in the open lands, and appealing narration, with apple juice for Magnus, Ghirardelli double chocolate brownies, and 5-Grain Cheez-Its.
As the film unfolded, featuring a red-headed Sissy Spacek “kept out of trouble” through the introduction of clarinet lessons, Rose had a distinct opinion on the matter…
“The clarinet would keep you out of everything.”
Murder was a theme of this curious drama, which inspired Magnus to suggest…
“What if people turn into clowns when they die and we don’t know it because the movies don’t show it.”
“She just slapped his forehead,” OLeif noted the odd gesture.
“’You just slapped my hair! I’m gonna go play some Mozart to cool off!’”
Further into the film, a network of tree houses emerged in the woods, contraptions and walkways, ladders, etc…
“Is this what the Snicketts backyard looked like in the glory days?” Magnus asked.
“I hope,” OLeif replied.
Not far from it, actually…
“They should have taken the chicken with them.”
“’This chicken? He is my son. I call him Chicken, Jr.’”
“They’ve been driving for a long time. Haven’t they run out of gas by now?”
“It’s the 50’s,” Magnus reasoned. “You could pretty much poke a hole in the ground.”
“So… is she schizophrenic or something?”
“Maybe she’s crazy.”
“She was just sitting in the woods with nothing to do all the time.”
“She did have her make-up,” Cassidy reminded them.
“’Did you ever put lipstick on a chicken?’”
“Sometimes the chicken put lipstick on her.”
And the lead male homicidal role bore an uncanny resemblance to a brunette version of Boy…