Laborless Day

“I feel like I’m gonna puke.”

“Seriously, Puck?”

“Yes.”

This was not exactly unexpected. We had been driving for about half an hour through winding back country southwest of 40, and Oxbear’s tendency towards “carsick” had definitely transferred to his oldest son.

“I’m gonna puke.”

Clearly, he just liked using the word “puke”, because he never did. Unlike his dad. Who can ever forget the infamous 19-hour drive to Disney World last May that left Oxbear a few pounds lighter, at least. Fortunately on that very warm Labor Day afternoon sixteen months later, Puck didn’t feel the need to join him in that department.

It took him all of two minutes to recover when we pulled up the driveway. He grabbed my laptop and with a wicked grin assured me that he only needed to play some computer games to completely recover.

It was 4:30. Everyone had arrived at the Silverspoon house for BBQ and Carrie-Bri’s apple crisp.

“What is Labor Day all about anyway?” Elmer asked after awhile. Eventually he came to his own conclusion. “Labor Day – when all the women have babies.”

As the sun turned over for the day – a few lingering fireflies – everyone sprawled around the living room for awhile in a big lazy circle. There was a lot of wedding talk, the next big family event coming up in the spring. Selections of cha-cha playing on the television. And eventually everyone seemed drowsy enough to call it a night before eight o’clock. One big partying bunch of folk.

Meanwhile, Mom had also done a little traveling in Switzerland over the weekend, and wouldn’t return for another week.