June 28

Monday, June 28, 2010

Mom was off to her Classical Conversations Practicum that morning. All day. For three days.

Almost as soon as Collette and Puck arrived, Francis begged breakfast.

“Please!” he pleaded. “Bacon and hashed browns. I’ll watch Puck while you make it!”

Meanwhile, Carrie-Bri had painted her nails in white and blue stripes in support of Argentina. And she showed Puck some Classic Doctor Who while Collette prepared to teach Francis.

“Are you scary?” Puck asked her when she made her eyes wide.

“Hold my hand so I won’t be scary,” she told him.

And Puck took her hand in his chubby paw.

Netherlands vs. Slovakia.

2 — 1.

It was Collette’s lot to root for losing teams. Except for Argentina on Sunday. She was happy with those results.

For the morning, between readings, Carrie finished painting the bar stools for Mom, while Puck helped to wash the paint off the patio.

Francis did math.

And, after nearly thirty years, the neighbors across the street, after their house had been on the market for nearly two years, still unsold, were moving to Colorado the next day. The moving trucks had already arrived. And Dad and Francis would walk over to help load it in the evening.

For lunch, Carrie made berry-yogurt-honey smoothies. Puck chugged down two. And scarfed down a load of honey roasted peanuts.

And in the afternoon, it was time for the Brazil-Chile match. But not before putting Puck down for an unsuccessful nap. Collette walked him down the stairs.

“I gonna hold on to you ‘fore you don’t break open,” he said.

Someone had been diligently listening to his grandpa.

And Brazil creamed Chile, 3 — 1.

Later on, Puck saw the box of White Cheez-Its on the kitchen table.

“Give me some crackers in my mouth, Uncle Francis. So I will get spicy,” he said, seriously.

Then Carrie came over to him. “Are you mine, Puck?” she asked.

“No I’m not yours. I’m Mama’s and Daddy’s.”

“Who is mine then?”

Puck thought about this for a moment. “Uh, uh… Grandma and Grandpa. Actually… actually… dah moon belongs to you. You can hug it.”

That evening, OLeif treated Collette to a boxed KFC meal: chicken, a biscuit, and macaroni and cheese, and they watched comedy and talked about how Collette resembled Eeyore. Some evenings were for those sorts of things.

“It’s snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily.

“So it is.”

“And freezing.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” said Eeyore. “However,” he said, brightening up a little, “we haven’t had an earthquake lately.”