Nothing to See Here

For the first time in days, the saber tooth icicles began to drip from the eaves. Even though it was still only 14 degrees at two o’clock. In the night, I had dreamt of damaging hail showers – all the family vehicle windshields splintered – (and also about a desecrated Indian grave in high cave country; sweated out that guaranteed curse in the small hours of the morning …) Anyway, I wondered if it was a sign of the spring to come.

Between math and writing that morning Puck was bouncing to Haddaway by the window over a case of Lego men, de-limbing and re-limbing according to what suited his fancy of the hour.

The afternoon rolled in quiet, except for the crunch of chain saws down the street; a not un-common sound in the neighborhood. I never find out where it’s actually coming from.

All quiet on the Eastern Front as well: no word from the Big House. The only new news from Sunday was Mom trying to cajole Dad into stat keeper for Irish’s games once the nerve in her back calmed down again. He wouldn’t have any of it.

And then … Puck hit the great outdoors, smashing icicles off the house, trying to fix the dryer vent cover he had cracked and therefore the flap had iced over. None of the clothes would dry in the basement. Therefore, three loads of laundry spread out all over the house under ceiling fans. It was a slow process.

I guess he made up for it. He offered his entire piggy bank of pennies to repair the damage he had inflicted. Besides, who can get too mad at a kid who gets a little giddy over the idea of protons and quarks? “I can’t believe they’re so small! That’s amazing!” Or about the sun’s gravitational pull reaching trillions of miles into space. “That’s why even though Pluto’s a planet, there’s nothing they can do about it,” he explained rationally. “Even if they went in a space ship to try to pull it away, it wouldn’t work.”

Then there was the after-dinner show. I walked into the bathroom to paste up Puck’s toothbrush, and there was – naturally – 45 years’ worth of air vent junk and fuzz soaking in the sink. As I once heard a famous athlete say on a regular basis, “It is what it is.” I just clean it all up and move on to the next thing. Besides, I still had to finish the house-wide clothesline, El Oso’s dinner pork steaks and mashed potatoes, and now also disinfect the bathroom. All in a good Monday’s work.

Puck’s Weekly What-do-You-Want-to-be-When-You-Grow-Up Status:

“Scientist.”