Eleven

Yali and I were busy on a muggy morning in early September.

Another physical therapy appointment a few minutes down the road at eight o’clock in the morning. Another massage. More distractions, this time in the way of board books with bright colors and photographs. If there was any pain involved, Yali didn’t notice it.

Target. Yali eagerly pointed at all the “puffies” (Gerber snacks) and pureed fruit/veg pouches. I guess all the crazy colors got his attention, just like the board books at physical therapy. They definitely know how to rope in the two year-olds.

Pediatrician. Parasite kit. Purely precautionary. You don’t live in South America for two years without being examined for that.

And of course the ever-popular, “Time to pick up Puck from school,” which always makes Yali pretty excited. A routine has been established, which inevitably includes that stop at the drinking fountains just to press the button and watch the water cascade.

That evening while I put fish in the oven for dinner, I heard Puck and Eddie discussing together their global travels, or lack thereof.

“I’ve never even been out of the country,” Eddie said with regret.

“I haven’t either,” Puck acknowledged. “I’ve only been to Florida … slash Disney World … and Texas.”

He’s never been to Texas.

Right before I put Yali down to bed that night, I asked Puck about his recent workout program.

“I’m not doing it.”

“Oh? You changed your mind?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“I don’t need to. I’m going to be big anyway. It’s in my blood.”

At eight o’clock, Puck decided to make a pit stop right before bed. With his eyes closed.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked him.

He just laughed a little. “I know this house like the inside of a potato, Mom.”

CARDINALS:

6 games up on Pittsburgh: 86 and 47; 29 games remaining.