Now That I'm Five
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
After an highly rare night of Puck waking two or three times before morning – in anticipation of the day – the strapping young chap was now officially one-twentieth of a century.
On the ride out that morning, he and OLeif briefly discussed cars. After a few minutes of this…
“Speaking of cars…” Puck added. “Do you think it will be my birthday when we get over to Grandma’s?”
It was, indeed. Carrie had fixed lengths of yellow crepe paper to the ceiling fan, which spun around in a big whirl.
“You’ve never seen a yellow tornado before, have you, Puck?” Mom asked.
Puck grinned.
Mom piled up a breakfast plate for the lad, with some “Andy Griffith” on the side, and the day was off.
Snuggles was desperate to get out and chase bunnies. Carrie slipped open the patio door, maybe a little maniacally…
“Alright, Snuggles. Ok. Go play with Rambo!”
Rambo was not out, but the jackrabbits were.
Snuggles was not successful.
Joe resurrected from the basement before ten, preparing to join the crowd about to ship over to Clayton. Puck was apparently not pleased with the appearance of his uncle’s hair. He left the room and then returned…
“You don’t want to look tough in there, Uncle Joe,” he said, thumping a hairbrush over the top of his head a few times.
Francis fired up the embarrassing slug, employing Puck in assisting him with the windshield wiper fluid before gunning off.
“Just make sure it isn’t a messy job,” Puck said, with slight concern.
“It’s not.”
“Ok, I’m with ya. Here, Mama. Watch this, please.”
He passed over a spent underwater camera, with which he pretend-snapped photos on the ride out, incorporating his own sound effects…
“Jing!… Jing!… Joe! Make a silly face!”
So…
The Toy Store. Imagination Toys, to be exact. That Wonderland of weaving-looms-volcano-packs-dinosaur-digs decadence in the years of seven, eight, and nine. And now it was Puck’s turn to experience the prolificness of colors, sounds, and textures, in all the right shapes and patterns. Puck’s final selection was a Playmobil speed boat with Dad-Mom-son-daughter, beach towels, and packed lunch.
There followed a little confusion in locating Rose’s work vicinity, to pick her up for lunch…
“Do I keep going?” Francis asked.
“Yeah. I said straight,” Joe retorted.
“But you didn’t say how long.”
“Hey. I said straight-straight-straight.”
“Now, what does everyone want for lunch?” Mom asked, pulling out paper and pen.
“Give me a Number 6!” Joe called from the back.
“Just give me a Number 5!” Puck added with a grin.
As they coasted towards the McDonald’s, Puck aided Francis with directions…
“Warmer. Warmer. Colder…”
Predicting the ensuing embarrassment, Francis parked the enormous vehicle outside Rose’s place of employment as Carrie instructed Mom to crank up the radio. Taco truck music, balloons, and Joe and Francis dancing on the top of the van, in welcome, had also all been suggested.
Rose emerged, frog-faced, in disgust.
“Do a burn-out!” Joe instructed from the back.
“Oh, is that your boss coming out?” Linnea asked.
“Just go!” Rose thundered.
“I should get out and write ‘Rose Snicketts is in this big van!’” Joe added. “Or maybe ‘Just Married’.”
“Just GO!” Rose thundered again. “Oh, happy birthday, buddy.”
“Thanks,” Puck looked at her skeptically. “But why are you yelling?”
“Yellow light! Yellow light!”
The van’s contents went screaming through the intersection.
Safe.
“Don’t worry,” Francis went on, “I’ll be sure to get you back on time, Rose. Just when all your other co-workers are coming back from lunch.”
“Right by the front door,” Carrie added.
“Hey, you don’t know what it’s like to keep a certain image for a company. You guys wouldn’t know.”
“I thought you said no one else was working here today,” said Carrie.
“It’s the biggest Boeing meeting of the year,” Rose informed them. “The CEO is in from San Diego!”
“Aw,” Joe replied. “So Francis and I can’t do our farewell dance for you then?”
Lunch was uneventful at a fenced-in park a couple of miles down the road.
Puck had been granted his requested chocolate milk shake, finished off by Francis.
As the Vehicle of Embarrassing Connotations and Humiliation arrived back on the small parking lot, Rose did not immediately emerge. After instructing Joe to park in the hotel next door, she carefully watched any just-arrived vehicles.
“Wait till those ladies walk inside,” she said.
“I thought you knew them,” Carrie replied.
“I know them well enough not to get out of a giant car in front of them.”
Another car pulled close…
“Oh, not that guy. He works in that other building.”
Finally, the coast was clear. As Rose farewelled and walked off, Joe gunned the engine. Rose didn’t look back.
On the ride back, Puck contemplated his new year…
“Mama. Since I am five, soon will I drop out a tooth?”
Back for a breather in the day, Linnea and Puck unpacked the Playmobil for a romp in the kitchen sink.
Carrie flipped up a few photos of the Brazilian paradise white sand dune, pure blue water gully that was her new ideal vacation site, daydreaming about the permanent return of Bon and Lon…
“Dad doesn’t know yet,” she said, not so guilty, departing to pot some plants on the patio.
The same man returned before four o’clock, in time for an amazing blueberry-celery-red-pepper-lemon-pie-filling-chicken salad, fluffy chocolate chip pancakes, and feathery chocolate cupcakes iced in some sort of Swiss butter frosting… all naturally from the impeccable chef-istry of Carrie-Bri.
On the way to church, Collette caught a glimpse of a nun in a bright blue apron, barbecuing behind the Catholic church.
One of two last children’s evenings for the year wrapped up the evening, with Anneliese working on grabbing at Puck’s hand. Puck preferred poking his shoulder – leftovers from wrestling with his dad and uncles.
On the ride home, Puck was concerned about the confusion of his bedtime…
“But, Dad. I thought I could stay up all night.”
“Tell you what. When you turn ten, you and I will stay up all night long together.”
The lightbulbs in Puck’s eyes told all.
“And we’ll watch movies together, bud.”
“Deadly movies, right, Dad?”
“Yes.”
As Puck was tucked into bed for the night, he took OLeif’s mustache comb and began furtively combing his hair as OLeif read him a chapter of the usual.
And poor Puma had re-injured himself…