Never Bored
In our special private recording studio at Elite Snicketts Productions, we require absolute quiet during our podcast sessions. This means no running water. In any part of the house. At all. So we have to work around showers, dishes, and laundry. Or rather, they have to work around us.
“Linnea’s in the shower,” Carrie informed me. “She swears it’ll be ten minutes. If not, I’ll bust the door down!”
Our public relations department is on permanent hiatus.
An hour later, shower complete, podcast recorded – another episode ready for launch in the tank – Mom and Carrie-Bri went table shopping while I covered the edits, Linnea worked another shift at DQ, and Francis submitted an application to a nearby private airport. Life-guarding would soon be a thing of the past. He hoped.
As I wrapped up edits, a low growl began emanating across the dining room. At first I thought it was Francis snoring on the couch. But, no, it was Pumpkin. Nothing like a fat cat sawing logs. Fortunately with the podcast already complete, she wasn’t disturbing the “on air” status.
Puck walked out of the gym – calmly – just returned from his field trip to the local post office. He hustled into the bathroom and walked back out, throwing himself on the quiet carpeted hallway like a starfish.
“Ahhhh…”
Just about the time we pulled back up to the Big House, I caught him making an extensive show of funny faces in the rearview mirror.
“Hey, doesn’t that look like a butt?” he asked seriously.
“What?”
“My chin,” he tapped it right in the middle. “It’s a butt.”
Boys.
Reading “The Boxcar Children” with Mom on the couch for awhile in a new pair of soft gray cargo-pocket pants that Mom and Carrie picked up for him for a dollar (following my policy of “never buy young boys expensive clothing”) and a bowl stuffed high with pretzels. Living the high life.
We drove home after dinner under weepy skies, dropping Linnea and her ukulele off at Old Church to prepare for an upcoming youth talent show.
At home, we covered an extensive number of pages in “Calvin & Hobbes” before bedtime, Puck tucked in under the eggplant blanket, his head resting in my lap, although he absolutely insisted that he wasn’t “cuddling” with me. He is way too cool for that.