One Hundred Twelve
“I want to polish my boots, Dad.”
The Bear told me about a brush and cloth in his polishing kit that Puck could use. And that is what he carefully did after downing a full bowl of oatmeal, a container of yogurt, and a banana.
While he got busy with that, I started laundry for the week. Crackers likes to jump up on top of the washing machine and watch me stir in the detergent, waiting to grab at the cold waterfall with her fuzzy paws. I always wish she was about half her size.
“You want to be big and strong and tall like Daddy, right?” I had asked Puck at breakfast when he dawdled over the last of his oatmeal.
“Yes. I do. Actually. I want to be a villain! Ha ha. Just kidding.”
At ten o’clock I sent him outside for a little while so I could finish some things and he could grab fresh air, sunshine, and exercise. Win-win. A glance out the window saw him standing by the mailbox near a quiet street – we probably have ten cars drive by from eight to three – blowing hard through a QT watermelon Jolly Rancher slush straw that actually produces a piercing whistling sound. A few minutes later, he opened the front door…
“Your break’s not over yet, Puck.”
“Mom. I’m being chased by dandelions.”
“What makes you think you’re being chased by dandelions?”
“Because I pulled them out. And now they can chase me since they’re free from the ground.”
He went back out. A few minutes later he returned holding a buffed shard of something brown…
“You might be a little freaked out that I’m holding this, Mom,” he told me solemnly. “Glass. Why do people keep putting that stuff in our yard? That’s asurd [absurd].”
He marched back out to mow the lawn with the seeder. When he realized this wasn’t going to work so great, I handed him a pair of dull scissors to cut the grass. A few minutes later, he opened the door and dropped the scissors on a stack of books…
“It will take months to do.”
And went back out again.
Boom.
“Puck, what was that?”
He opened the door to his room. I already knew it was his glass of milk from lunch that had spilled. A very bad idea…
“Mom, I just did it on accident. I put it in a bad spot, I think. So don’t blame me hardly.”
We had just finished arithmetic. Impressed by my advanced adding abilities, Puck seemed to have some follow-up questions…
“What is… kitty litter plus one hundred eighty nine and thousand. What does that equal?”
“You can’t just add things together unless you have a certain amount to add, bud.”
“Well, what is one hundred plus one shiny penny?”
I had just set Puck’s dinner bowl on the table and turned back to the counter to fix mine. Something went flying through the air. On the floor lay Puck’s challah dinner roll with a light-up swimming torpedo stuck through its center.
“I’m testing it, MOM!”
Francis cut our yard in the evening. But he didn’t have time to bring the bunks. A glass of ice water and a wedge of watermelon, and he was out to meet with a buddy. Rain was coming.
While I was trying to explain chivalry to Puck before bed, he had some more questions…
“Who decided that women would go first?”
“God.”
“But man was made first, so he should go first!”