Late Start
Monday, July 16, 2012
The felines still liked to nibble on the straw broom, apparently. Or attack it, more like.
Crackers was beginning to take flying leaps for the kitchen table, clawing at the antique maple – or whatever – hinged wings. Dad would not like that…
Due to various circumstances of everything being a Monday, everyone got a late start on everything.
Mom called.
Polly and Fernando had their little boy that morning, a chubby nine pounds, and four ounces, arriving in his own sweet time twelve days late, on his Aunt Lili’s birthday.
“When will I get to see him, Mama?” Puck asked eagerly. “Next week?”
“Try Christmas…” Collette replied, passing on the explanation that he lived in Boston and couldn’t so easily hop a plane at one week old.
“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!” Puck declared over and over in excitement.
No name had been given yet.
Eeking on.
Three loads of laundry.
Mold counts in the 35,000’s… oh, ug.
And the temperatures till splitting 90’s all week, including a few hundred+ popped in there on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday
Just for fun.
More mortgage papers arrived in the mail.
“I want a cookie, Mama,” Puck said in the afternoon, recalling the still-unfinished package of oatmeal cookies on the counter.
“I suppose so,” Collette replied. “But I need three kisses first.”
He gave her twenty, giggling the whole way.
Puck tried dancing with the “mama cat” during dinner.
Floozie was not so amused.
He went back to his plate of thick peanut butter toast and examined a card tricks instruction book over Elvis and AWOHLNATION.
Moderation, Collette reminded the back of her head. Moderation.
As the second and last course was completed, Puck resurrected the bag of magic markers and his hinged wood snake from Sunday School.
“I’m going to make her pretty, Mom,” he explained. “Mine’s going to be the bluest of them all.”
In fact, he was so intent on coloring every section the best that he could, that he eventually fell out of his chair.
“Oh, honey!”
He popped up off the floor immediately, holding up his hands…
“I didn’t hurt myself, Mama. I’m a good brave man, I don’t get hurt like that.”
He then presumed to draw “important papers” with a fine-tipped purple marker.
“This is not art, Mom,” he explained, tongue stuck out in concentration. “It’s very important.”
– Collette knew some artists who might disagree with the sense of that statement… –
“It means… how many stops Daddy went in the airplane.”
After dinner, Puck emerged from the bathroom – sunglasses pushed back on his head, two fully blue markered hands, swinging the minty floss box…
“Could I have a piece of floss to suck on?” he asked with a huge grin.
Oh, good grief.
OLeif cranked back up the drive somewhere after eight o’clock with new socks, hand soap, and groceries.
Exciting times, yeah?
Well… the game was anyway…