Monday

Monday, July 18, 2011
In which Monday begins with its own trouble and is quickly forgotten in the rest of the day…

Nightmare just before midnight… hunted down; racing heart.

The true day started off with…
“Mama! A squirrel just chomped on his tail! Isn’t that funny!”
Laugh, laugh, laugh…
Puck could be seen not long later marching around the kitchen in his papa’s cowboy boots, drinking a glass of milk, and incorrectly reciting Old King Cole.

For the day…
Four hours of reading, and Puck eagerly rehearsing words, the alphabet, and numbers.
Fifteen minutes of sun in the kitchen.
Cleaning and organizing.
Ben-Hur.
Lunch: swai w/ paprika, cheddar, and honey dew melon.
“Puck, come set the table.”
“I will!” came the military reply. “Just a second! I’m feeding my piggy bank! He hasn’t had breakfast today!”
Spanish during lunch.
Quiet Hour with Bible stories on CD for Puck, and typing for Collette. She did it by the inch those days, tucking away about 16 for the hour, around hunting through further spidery photocopies of the 1850 Federal census of Illinois for Louis Hamilton. And further correspondence with the archivist in Illinois…

That evening, Puck was having troubles becoming tired, but by 8:15 or so, he finally conked.
And OLeif returned from work by eight-thirty with a load of books for Collette’s research.