Graduation One
We woke up late, all of us, small wonder. Puck popped a slice of bread into the toaster, and sang himself an original composition. “So, I don’t care. If you are. A clerk. I don’t care. If you are. A snerk. So I don’t care if you had oatmeal for breftest and then you choked it up. I don’t care if George Washington got killed by a pickle. I don’t care if an ant ate you up. I don’t care if a one year-old diamond punched me in the face for no pacific reason. Breftest!”
One day, this kid will pronounce words correctly. Maybe.
It was about 11:30, I guess. One and a half hours into Izzy’s college commencement ceremony, and Puck put aside the Calvin & Hobbes, stashed high up in the Family Arena, as the diploma presentation finally began. In unison, the Bachelor of Arts students rose together.
“Wow, they all graduated fast,” Puck observed, relieved that things were finally moving a little faster.
“Oh, honey, they have to get their diplomas one at a time.”
Puck’s eyes bugged out a little bit. “ONE?! Why not TEN AT A TIME?!”
This concept was obviously inconceivable to a second grader. Clearly, more imagination and creativity was required to pass the next hour until Izzy’s name was called with the Bachelor of Fine Arts candidates.
Puck pulled Oxbear’s sports jacket over his head and around his shoulders. He turned slyly to me and opened one end of the jacket.
“Wanna buy a watch, Mom?”
This goof eventually became inspired to compare the retail value of the stadium to the value of diamonds the size of which I’m pretty sure don’t exist. He held both arms out in front of him in a circle, and tried to whisper.
“We could buy this place with a diamond this big, Mom!”
Tuscano’s Brazilian Grill for lunch, seven at the table. Slabs of hot juicy meat and steaming grilled pineapple carved onto plates. This is Oxbear’s kind of meal. Actually, I think it’s just a Silverspoon kind of meal. And because Puck is half-Silverspoon, he was still pretty interested in about half the meat selections, topping it all off with what he kept calling a “Parmesan lemonade” (“Brazilian lemonade”.
Back at the Silverspoon’s, Puck played crazy fall-into-piles-of-blankets-and-pillows-from-a-ladder games to make Elvis laugh. I think it’s about as mutually entertaining for both of them.
That evening on the drive home, we picked up a basketball for Eddie’s birthday party tomorrow afternoon and two pairs of jeans for Oxbear – badly needed.
“I got them in two colors,” Oxbear told me proudly. “’Jean’ and ‘Dark Jean’.”