He Said What?

Somehow Puck managed to escape into Sunday School with no less than a lifeguard whistle, hammer, and … an antique gravy ladle. The times you live as a distracted parent.

As Puck merged onto Terraria with his dad later that afternoon, he critiqued El Oso’s various moves on their collaborative world.

“You’re just weird, Dad. A wall of flesh just spawned.”

And later…

“Dad! Why did you just quit when a hell-bat whacked you?”

The conversations of seven year-olds in the 21st century. As opposed to the 20th, or 19th, or literally any other century in the history of humankind. No more:

“Father, I collected the eggs and milked the cow. It is now five o’clock in the morning. I should leave for school to start a fire in the pot-belled stove, after I walk to the stream to get a pail of water for Mother.”

Or:

“I chopped down two trees into firewood today, Father, then hiked ten miles in three feet of fresh snow to trade Mother’s candlesticks for fresh fish at market.”

Or whatever.

Anyway, the Rye family drove up at four o’clock for Pizza Hut (brought out the big guns for guests).

While the adults chatted after dinner, including plates of Ghirardelli brownies, Francis decided to entertain the younger masses. And what better way to keep a seven year-old, four year-old, and almost-three year-old entertained than with something involving fire. This time in the form of a toaster oven. They couldn’t just leave the Play-dough in its original form. No, Francis had to go and suggest that they bake it. Bake. Play-dough.

“It works,” he insisted. “Trust me. I learned this in my ceramics class as college.”

From the kid who learned for the first time this evening that red and yellow do not, in fact, make green.

Fortunately, nothing burned. At least, not before we left. Although the smell wasn’t so great. I think Puck was a little disappointed that his giant Play-dough marble didn’t bake all the way through.