One Hundred Twenty-Nine
Puck crashed our room again. He had already breakfasted. Sometimes I am amazed at the things this kid can get done before I even open my eyes…
“Did you get a banana, too?” I asked, half-awake-aware of my son’s need for some early morning potassium to accompany the protein and calcium.
“I’m stuffed to the bones!”
“So… you didn’t?”
“Nope.”
I got him a banana.
I knew rain was coming. You could see it hanging dark and heavy in the southwest as usual. But we had enough time to set up Crackers’ outdoor mesh tent in the backyard for her first try. She was scared, but sort of curious at the same time, so Puck joined her, two big wide yellow eyes sitting in his lap. But not before Puck had loudly scolded the neighbor dogs for barking madly at his cat. So I couldn’t stop him before a hand-sized rock went hurling over the honeysuckle fence to get their attention and show them who was boss. No harm done, thankfully. I had to explain life and its consequences once again to him.
I stepped inside for a quick shower while The Bear kept an eye on Puck from his desk window. A few minutes later, yelling through the bathroom door…
“MOM! I HEARD IT THUNDERING AND I BROUGHT IN CRACKERS, QUICK! GET OUT OF THE SHOWER MOM! THERE’S LIGHTENING!”
“Thanks, bud. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“MOM! COULD WE HAVE OFF SCHOOL TODAY?! BECAUSE IT’S A THUNDER DAY!”
You’ve got to be kidding me – the symbolic reincarnation of his aunt and uncle.
Crackers had enjoyed her outdoor romp so much that she was inspired to attack a dead oak leaf tracked inside, for most of the morning.
Target. Puck helped me find things. Mama socks. Puck socks. A sort of dressy blue and white plaid shirt for Puck, for the wedding. Spring green dish cloth. Coral cake plate. Five pieces of make-up for five dollars. We roll high. A middle-aged lady with a Slavic accent and wrist braces checked us out at the register. We had walked by a few slightly bent and gray-haired gentlemen stocking items around the snack chip and gift bag aisles. It made me a little sad, really. Maybe they were happy about it.
The rain started again as we pulled up the driveway.
Lunch. Puck speared cantaloupe, narrating our Wahoo game like he was Bob Ross or something.
We had more places to go, still. I pulled on a new pair of gray socks with purple dots and joined the boys on the drive which quickly turned into a very heavy deluge as we approached Mid Rivers. Thankfully, it subsided just about as we pulled into the Kinko’s parking lot for The Bear to make a photo copy of our renewed adoption forms on legal-sized paper. The bank for notarizing, picked up The Bear’s ridiculously expensive gray suit. Dropped off The Bear to finish work. Back out to church to pick up Puck’s backpack stuffed with school workbooks – he was thrilled about that – and home for math…
“Ok, Puck, just one more line to write, and then you’re done, ok?”
“One more line? Are you sure about that, busta [buster]?”
We concluded dinner and I tried to stem any late-evening disaster-messes that Puck might incur without thinking…
“Puck, why are you taking up the rug?”
“I want to fold it in half and skate on it!”
Put a stop to that one pretty fast. 6:30 is too late for any further antics. The Bear was already gone for his meeting with the guys downtown.
Puck was in absolute hysterics that evening…
“You know, sometimes when I come back to kiss you goodnight, Puck, while you’re sleeping you whack me in the face.”
It took half a second…
“HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”
I’m talking about some deep belly laughs here. But he still had more questions from under his soft stretchy red bedsheets…
“Did I get in trouble when I was a baby?… Do boys and girls get in the same trouble?… Does Dad whack you in the face when you kiss him goodnight, too?”
I was ready for a cold apple juice and some Korean drama. We had a long weekend coming.