No Fools
After taking a few more phone calls and scratching out a handful of homework requests from 8:15 – 9:15 in the school office that morning, I wedged my way through twenty minutes of parking-lot-style traffic back to the Big House for another podcast recording session.
Winter had finally bit the dust, it would seem. I suddenly noticed green things, exploding blossoms, wind and sun and those suggestively dark storm clouds from the west that we hadn’t shook hands with in awhile.
Snuggles meowed to get out into it while Mom and Carrie-Bri drove out to Costco and a hair trim and I edited Episode 27. Inching up through the numbers.
I heard the click of the 2nd grade classroom doorknob turn as I stood in the brick hallway reading “Fluent Forever” (have to take care of this Spanish situation, pronto).
“I have to go give this stuff to my mom,” I heard Puck’s voice on the other side of the door.
Daily, he’s the first one out to chuck a pile of backpack, hoodie, lunch box, thermos – and paper scraps from Art on Wednesdays – at my feet. Then hurries back into the classroom for closing prayer. I can always hear it coming.
“Praying in twenty seconds!” Mr. V cheerfully tells the seventeen seven and eight years-olds.
Amazingly, they listen.
Back at the Big House, Puck was getting slightly bored of writing the summary sentence for his next book report – “The Story of Ferdinand” – about a peaceful Spanish bull. He drooped his head further and further to the side until – grinning – said, “Farewell,” and fell over in a lump on the bench.
Later, during dinner, he had questions for Carrie.
“Sun? What would happen if an enormous mirror half the size of Erf (Earth), reflected back to the sun? Would the sun explode?”
They chatted about that. Something to tell all of his friends at school, probably.
Meanwhile, Dad showed up in the dining room doorway, stuffing another Danish.
“Dad!” Carrie chastised. “Is that your third?”
Dad just grinned and held up three fingers.
Puck and I turned back for home before seven, hoping for storms.