No More Cabin Fever
Both boys tore out the front door into wind and sun early that morning. It was a little after nine o’clock on a Saturday, and we could already open the windows.
“Keep an eye on your brother,” I advised Puck.
“Oh, don’t worry, Mom. I will. I saved Yali from a bus yesterday.”
I remembered yesterday morning before school when both boys had crossed a quiet street to the neighbor’s yard while I unlocked the car. They waited there together as a school bus slowly drove by, Puck holding onto Yali’s shoulders.
“Saved” might be glorifying Puck’s role a little too much in this particular situation.
“I also saved the bus,” Puck added. “Because Yali chucked a rock at the tire.”
Later that Saturday morning, Puck returned indoors to his big surprise gift from Rose, a relic she had collected from work – little white Acer laptop – and given to him Friday night.
“I can’t believe I have my own laptop!” he grinned. A few minutes later: “I just can’t believe I have my own laptop!”
Considering I didn’t get my own laptop until I was 23, I’d say he’s doing pretty well for himself.
It was spring. We drove out around 1:30 to meet Swanson and Gloria at the stables. On the way, I noticed that Puck’s tongue and lips had turned blue. Puck was baffled.
“I had some milk. And lots of cheese sticks.”
“That wouldn’t do it, bud.”
He spent so much time trying to figure out what had turned his mouth blue, that he finally said to me, baffled, “I can’t figure out what it is, Mom. I didn’t even eat a bug or anything like that.”
Rocket’s training was going well. After Swanson demonstrated a few rounds in the outdoor pen, both boys piled on his back with me for a ride down the road and back. Somehow we all managed to stay on, although Puck was pretty sure he was “about to fall off!” several times before the ride came to an end. Still, he was eager enough to take one more ride – solo – back in the arena, bareback, clutching onto Rocket’s russet-brown mane, tentative grin on his face.
Pink lightening split up the west on our drive home that evening, even in February. I have missed our thunderstorms.