Mexican Bird Watcher

We sat down to fish tacos and fresh green peppers at five-thirty that evening. Yali thrust both fat little brown hands together, begging to pray quickly so he could start going to town on the spread before him.

Oxbear walked in the door a few minutes late through cold rain with the usual, “Tell me about your day!”

Conversation quickly arrived at the topic of Spirit Week at school. Although Puck had declined to participate in the Beach/Hawaiian theme on Monday – given his apprehensions of costumes in general – Tuesday’s “Time Travel” sounded a little more interesting to him.

“Dad. I’ve decided what I’m going to be tomorrow. Guess.”

“Hmmm…”

“I will give you a hint. It has to do with things in the ground.”

“Hmmm…”

“I will give you a list, and you guess which one it is.”

“Go for it.”

“Okay. … Space … Leonardo Da Vinci … Mom … Africa … Archaeologist.”

Oxbear tapped his chin. “Space. Definitely you’re going as Space.”

Puck clapped an open palm to his forehead, laughing. “An archeologist, Dad. I’m going as an archeologist.”

“But what are you going to wear?” I asked, knowing dress-up items were limited in the archeology department.

“You’ll need a hat,” Oxbear told him, dipping into the guacamole.

“Yali’s sombrero?” I suggested.

“YES!” Puck agreed. “And I’ll bring my binoculars. … Maybe I’ll be a tourist,” he said after a moment, remembering Julia’s recommendation to him earlier in the afternoon.

Still, his current wardrobe was not tailored to cliché tourist standards. He was more a jeans/Chucks type of guy. So in the end, with those jeans, Chucks, striped collared shirt, binoculars, and sombrero, Puck finally settled on: “Mexican Bird Watcher, Circa 1950s”.

Yali expressed his support by tossing a fresh tortilla over his face like a war mask, giggling at the silliness of it all.