One of Four
Puck quickly pressed a bright blue rag to the bottom of the living room window, catching sudsy drips racing towards the window sill. Sometimes I wonder if professional window washing might be in his future. It’s one of the few chores that I haven’t even assigned to him, but he does anyway. Maybe I never assign it because the house quickly becomes intoxicated with the overdosed fumes of environmentally unsafe cleaning chemicals. But I always express my thanks for his thoughtfulness.
Puck isn’t the only maid service in the house. Crackers does her share by polishing flatware whenever her fickle feline spirit feels so incline. She licked the butter knife during lunch, right off the plate, her fuzzy self boldly planted on the kitchen table while Puck laughed through an “I Love Lucy”.
The afternoon was slightly warmer than freezing. Sunshine helped, even in a week originally predicting a dumping of snow for the weekend, now sizzled down to a mere brushing.
Puck flew outside with the neighbor girls,to their backyard construction site. Soon they were ransacking the shed for goodies – old drainage pipes, plastic mesh originally meant for a vegetable garden.
Sometime later, Puck burst back through the front door. SLAM! “MOM, CAN YOU OPEN THE GARAGE?! WE’RE GOING TO BUILD A CITY! Actually, never mind. I’m going to dig a hole!” SLAM!
Neither the city or the hole were completed before dinner. But it’s always worth a try. Puck and I have grand plans for our digging this summer. Who knows, but we may find a city of our own.
Puck threw back a fluffy omelet, two thick pieces of Kerry-Gold-buttered white honey wheat toast, a bowl of baby carrots, and a bowl of frozen blueberries for dinner. And was, of course, still hungry.
“Mom! Can I have something to eat!”
The first of our four-day weekend wrapped up with chapters of “Hank the Cowdog” on the couch for Oxbear and Puck before bedtime.
Also, guacamole. Only one bite of it for me. Turns out the whole pack was sold: expired. And expired is something I just don’t do. Plus, it tasted funny. Even Oxbear agreed and stopped eating it. We made up for it with Cosmic Brownies and Oxbear’s new favorite – dry sodas in blood orange and lavender. I had a sip of the floral option. No – surprisingly – it wasn’t like drinking perfume.