Manly Things
My groggy mind was telling me it was Saturday on a Thursday. Or maybe it was already summer. I couldn’t remember for a moment. But my 6:15 alarm confirmed that it was still mid-week, April. A few days traveling between China and Scotland across deep cold rivers – no wonder I skipped to the weekend. Some dreams feel like weeks.
Yali and I spent a day at home to catch up on fun things like laundry, before viewing part of the game downtown on my laptop. For lunch I made quesadillas with chili powder – that kid likes spicy food – and read Jane Eyre out loud to Yali. Not really sure why; I guess there were more manly options available at the time. But it didn’t seem to matter, because when I looked up from the book, he was lightsabering the air with a celery stick, sound effects included.
To make up for that single mouthful of celery he eventually squeezed down his throat at lunch, Yali was rewarded later in the day for this good deed. Heidi fed him half a Cow Tail after carpool. Food of a non-vegetable nature equals lifelong companionship for this little niño.
The afternoon was warm as we drove west back home. I heard the boys giggling together in the back seat.
“Yali! Your toesies are being very naughty! They are being very naughty, Yali! They must be punished! Your toesies must be punished!”
Laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh.
Who knows. Sometimes I think Puck just can’t stand any more of the Yali cute-factor, so he lapses into some kind of inexplicable baby talk. And I don’t think Yali is complaining about it.
We took a walk around the neighborhood before dinner, Puck peddling away on the bike he’s somehow already outgrown. Yali dragged his little brown fingers on the cement next to his stroller, until he realized that was probably a bad idea, and high-fived Puck whenever he passed us, looping back and forth waiting for us to catch up.
Come Yali’s bedtime, Puck heard the tell-tale ding-a-ling of the ice cream truck entering the neighborhood. Oxbear had promised him one purchase once spring came. I watched Puck stand on the front porch, his Easter five-dollar bill in both hands behind his back, waiting its arrival. A few minutes later he popped his head back in the doorway.
“LOOK, MOM! IT’S A WARHEADS POPSICLE! AND IT ONLY COST THREE DOLLARS!”
Maybe summer is closer than I realized.