Pins, Needles, Pennant

The house already stunk with Odor de Green Bean, before breakfast. Bær might have lost twenty pounds in sixteen days, but the subsequent accompanying nauseation of mushroom, cauliflower, and green bean, could not be appreciated.

Understanding my acclamation towards forgetting food on – or in – the stove, Bær heavily advised me to watch his cooking green beans while he left for work.

“It’s not like the green beans are REAL, DAD! BEEP! BEEP!” Puck added his opinion and laughed.

Bær just couldn’t help himself in the kitchen. He watched me scramble eggs in the pan. I guess I wasn’t quick enough for him…

“Faster, faster! Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop! Pretend it’s Puig and you’re poppin’ him on the side of the head.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yes, you would.”

“No… I might just slap him once upside the head if I was his mama though.”

That showed him.

“Then just pretend it’s all those haters in L.A.”

Mixed with the odor of green beans, I was already losing my appetite anyway. Bær continued to advise…

“Take it off the heat now. Pop-pop-pop! Now bring it on home! Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!”

Breakfast was served.

We wrapped up “week three on” of Puck’s school that afternoon…

“YIPEE! HURRAH!”

“What are you doing, Puck?”

“I’m just hooraying myself because I’m off school!”

We discussed various animals later in the morning, including my distaste for monkeys…

“But you will have to like monkeys in Heaven,” Puck informed me, “because monkeys will be there.”

Then he saw a fly buzzing around the window. So did Crackers…

“A house fly is the most dangerous animal in the world. Nana looked it up on the computer. It could even kill a human being. I’m serious. So if Crackers kills and eats it, she’s our hero. This is more important, Mom. It’s the fly, or the deff [death].”

This imagination continued at the park where he met another young chap: airplanes, desert islands, “fake St. Louis”, and monsters later, we had to go. They made their goodbyes…

“SEE YA LATER, LEMON SANDWICH! AH HA HA HA HA HA!”

“SEE YA LATER, ROMAN BRICK!”

7:30PM. No appetite. Sitting on the couch, glued to the laptop screen, texting back and forth with my sisters about scores and “lucky French fries” [that was Rose]. Breathing easy after three, rain falling softly after nine: rookie MVP, Beltran’s pennant, happy brothers, and everything else I had been hoping for. Now to repeat one more time…