Eight
A little panpipes on ADD started an early morning in the little Snicketts house. Fitting, in a way. While Puck spent the morning galavanting at the Big House, El Oso and I caravan-ed to Maryland Heights for our home study update. Was this number five? Probably, because as our social worker reminded us – with reluctance – now that we had hit number five, our updating fees were likely going to triple. Penalized for waiting. What can you do. Anyway, considering that this whole process started when Puck was two, and we’re still here five years later doing the same thing, I guess we’ve held up pretty well.
Puck was lounged on the couch at the Big House watching “Arthur,” an old staple PBS family favorite. While he wrapped up another episode, Irish and I chatted about “boiz” and subsequent dilemmas in the kitchen over giant Costco muffins: chocolate-chocolate-chip. Oldest sisters passing down valuable information to younger sisters: a family tradition.
Dad walked in a few minutes later: half-day, armed with 64 ounces of red gatorade. Then Mom and Carrie-Bri back from Sunset Hills. Carrie was already strapped into her heart monitor, a follow-up from Sunday’s visit to the ER:
“I look like I’m attached to a bomb.”
All in a day’s work, Carrie dyed my hair, I dyed her hair, Dad scoffing from the kitchen with another glass of red Gatorade.
Irish left to decorate for a Steak-n-Shake-breakfast-at-midnight birthday party. She returned later with blue paint on her face.
Francis blew inside for his prom clothes, stuffing Zuni’s corsage in the fridge. Then out the door after being advised by two of his older sisters that his pants were “way too tight,” and getting a thumbs up from Puck:
“You do look handsome, Francis.”
By this time, Lucia – starting a new job at a bridal company on Saturday – was over to advise both Carrie and myself on our respective outfits for the Cardinals charity event. A few tweaks: old family jewelry, all in black, and we were ready to go.
Somehow, we found ourselves back home before 7:30, Puck jumping up and down in excitement to see Rose pull her mint-green car up the street. Ricky with a box of donuts after a long day’s drive back from Indianapolis to plunk out some screeching tunes on El Oso’s violin. Carrie staying just long enough to confiscate the violin bow, catch the first third of Gattaca, and half a game’s box score with me, while Ricky and Rose talked Lasik, tacos, and movie reviews.