It's Not Spring Anymore

“Mom, I am going to have to restart this iPad again, because it is being a jerk, obviously.”

I didn’t really feel like having a discussion with Puck about how inanimate objects couldn’t intentionally annoy him. But eight o’clock on a Saturday morning wasn’t the time for it.

An hour later – snow globe snow. Puck and I brought a stem of little white carnations to the cemetery before the already saturated ground was covered, thick wet powdered sugar.

When we got back, Puck had a mild concern to address with me.

“Mom? Do you think there is a spider in the toilet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Can you just come here and check?”

“What, have you had experience with this in the past?”

“Yup.”

I checked. “All good.”

“Is he in there?”

“He is not.”

“Is there anyone in there?”

“No one in there.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“What if there is?”

By this time, Oxbear and Yali were returning from their morning in South City with The Duke, Chet Danger, Red Strike, and plates of waffles, bacon, and eggs, where Yali had apparently enjoyed a wrestling match with The Duke. Two year-old takes on 34 year-old.

At one o’clock Puck and I were off Shepard Road – one of my favorite drives in St. Louis – for Heidi’s basketball game, coached by her dad, Hans. It was like reliving Irish’s games all over again, circa 2005. After I had talked Puck through the game for awhile – letting him get a flavor for the possibility of playing himself next season – I asked his opinion.

“Yeah, this is fun,” he admitted, later referring to his experience as ‘awesome’, “but I prefer to watch professional.”

“When have you watched professional basketball before?”

“You know, that one time at Uncle Balthasar’s house?”

This kid just does not take after his mom in the sports-watching department. After all, he has aspirations of being a blacksmith when he grows up, so he has other things on his mind right now.

When we got home, Puck ate two whole boxes of blackberries before I knew what had happened.