October 12
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Puck was not happy to see his daddy leave for work that morning. He pressed his face up against the window screen to give him a kiss on the nose.
“I miss you so much, Daddy. I miss you,” he said, mournfully, his big chubby hands sticking out of his oversized Krispy Kreme sweatshirt.
Shortly after eight o’clock, the crew arrived for the usual. Francis wasted little time getting his music playlist ready for his math hour, including a ‘battle’ piece. He proceeded to walk Collette through an imaginary Vietnam battle as they listened to the piece, giving details as they moved from one section of the piece to the next, including mist in the jungles, etc.
“You should write music for movies,” Linnea told him, sitting at Puck’s desk.
Meanwhile, Puck had spent his morning picking up groceries with his grandma, and then battling it out with Francis and the light saber. He was most aggrieved when it was time for them to leave to get home for choir.
“But I miss them, Mama!” he cried, little tears rolling down his chubby cheeks. “I miss them so much.”
During Puck’s nap, he had the little red and brown-paper notebook that Grandma Combs had given her when she went to Iceland.
“Mama!” he cried. “Could I have a pen so I can write, ‘Dear Mama, I love you!’ ‘Dear Daddy, I love you!’”
Then he heard Collette listening to a sermon from the other room, and as he usually said…
“Mama? Are you listening to a service? I want to listen to a service.”
In the afternoon, Collette turned on the Iceland-Portugal match. Portugal was already leading. Then Iceland pulled their equalizer in the eighteenth minute, by the skin of their teeth. Followed by Portugal striking back quickly not long later. And then again later. That was the way of soccer… fast and furious.
The rest of the day was a matter of self control for Collette. Grandma Combs had left a Hallowe’en-sized bag of candy with her. Always a very very dangerous thing to do. And Collette was not short of downing half the bag by the time eight o’clock in the evening had arrived, also with the everlasting pages to write, laundry to fold, and Monarch of the Glen. Collette could never quite seem to get her fill of BBC series from the 90’s. Or from the early 2000’s, for that matter.