Fragile: Handle with Care
Snack, snack, smack, smack, snack.
What the…
Pushing down the impulse to punch-slap whatever “thing” was eating my face at 6:33 in the morning, I reasoned myself out of sleep and realized that Crackers was only eating my hair.
When I fell asleep again I woke up a few minutes later to find her entire body sprawled across my neck, purring like a locomotive. This is what happens when I forget to put her in the basement during the night.
Anyway, Puck walked out to breakfast wearing four shirts, while Crackers resumed her usual trouble by knocking Red Beard over on the table, who lost a tidy handful of his potting soil as a result.
A few minutes later Bær was on his way out the front door when…
CRASH!
“I’m sorry, Mom! I’m sorry! It was Crackers’ fault! She wouldn’t let go!”
Just one more piece of devastation. The completely murdered victim this round was the silver and glass vase Rose gave me. I mean, I don’t really keep many breakables around here, but the ones I do, don’t see the light for long.
Cleaned up everything and got back to business.
Puck was leaning backwards in his chair during math and almost bit linoleum. He jumped up from his seat and threw his arms tight around my neck…
“Mom! Can I hug you? I almost fell over!”
Hey, I’ll take a Puck-hug any time, any place.
Had some time to finish science before lunch, discussing the general lack of even food distribution throughout the world…
“Right, and you should never let a snake into a store because they could eat anything they want that looks tasty,” Puck summarized.
“I guess…”
“Yeah, like a fish or something. Except those stores with doors that open automatic. That could be a problem.”
Took a claw in the face after lunch, trying to remove Crackers from her lookout post above the kitchen cabinets, because Puck wanted to keep her in his room during Quiet Hour.
The things I suffer for this family.
7:00PM; Silverspoon basement; a bunch of girls. What happened to the men-and-sports connections in these families? I guess Joe did stop by for an hour while Gloria prepared what Carrie labeled “a Thanksgiving feast” for everyone involved. I guess it was a rather depressing evening. There was a big argument about the nationality of the Dodgers’ pitcher. Guesses from Hawai’ian to Japanese. Rose and I won: Korean.
Poor old chaps.