First Punch

Around 6AM I heard the swishing sound of little ice pellets outside the window. It had nothing to do with the weather, but Bær had already decided to work from home. Good thing, too, because all the sneezing and Kleenex kind of gave the indication that he might not be feeling so well.

Puck sat on the red couch copying Mario symbols from a discarded bulletin he had fished out of the recycling basket at Old Church, while I made breakfast. He’s been practicing his artistry a lot lately: bright colors.

After I concluded reading a difficult passage from the Old Testament for the morning devotion sent from Dad, Bær explained some more to Puck, “God’s values are different from ours. He thinks other things are more important than the things we think are important …”

“He knows what’s important, Dad. He doesn’t think what’s important.” Puck just wanted to clear up that little “miscommunication.”

So, under another silent gray sky, things carried on as usual. Mom was watching “A Christmas Carol” at the Fox with Mrs. O that night, Joe was trying not to go crazy because of too many wedding possibilities, and Puck just wanted to graduate from yet one more day of Phonics.

I couldn’t blame him.

Crackers started smacking her jaws over Bær’s lunch Tupperware of tuna laced with mustard and globs of mayo. Down the stairs she went. I really wonder if Snuggles is sending her secret messages these days – hints on how to “be bad” at all the worst times – Snuggles who now apparently sleeps with a teddy bear at nights.

I heated Bær’s patched red rice pack in the microwave and a kettle of hot water. He had officially caught The Cold. I even adjusted the thermostat from 67 to 70. Puck snuggled Crackers under a pile of blankets on the bottom bunk in his room …

“Mom, this is what I will use this bed for until my baby brudder comes.”

And we waited for the snow to arrive.

It never did.