Run Run Run
We had just left the house on a chilly Friday morning for school, driving into an explosion of morning blue-white clouds and sunburst.
“Look at that sky, Puck,” I told him. “I love spring skies. They’re always different, every day. Can you picture Native Americans standing in the hills out here, hundreds of years ago, watching the sun rise? Just the quiet of nature and the beauty of God’s creation…”
Puck had just one inspired word for me. “Oink.”
That boy has no poetry in him.
After hanging around for school chapel that morning – trying to get Yali to practice sitting for church on Sundays – we had to hustle out of there to make it back home in time for another impromptu speech therapy evaluation.
This time, Puck rolled around on the couch pillows behind me, popping clementine slices, and performing on command like a little mockingbird. For his good deeds, he received a few kisses on the top of his dark hair by the speech therapist. The charm this kid oozes… makes me wonder what I’m in for during his teenage years.
During carpool, following some generous bribery for Yali at the hands of Heidi by way of fruit snacks, the girls informed me of their particular illustrious ancestors in Hans’ classroom.
“I’m part Indian!” Heidi told me proudly. “I’m related to Sacajawea!”
“And I’m related to Pocahontas!” Annie-Bea said, just as proudly.
I had to admit I was a little bit jealous.
A little after 3:30, we dropped Puck off at Snicky’s house for a couple hours of playdate fun in the woods after school. As Puck hopped out of the car, I noticed that he had shredded the knee of his 7th pair of uniform pants that year. Still trying to figure out how, exactly, that happens. Puck seems just as mystified. Maybe it’s because he wears them while hunting for ancient scrap metal in the woods and playing dodgeball. Worth it.
Between following my poor beat-up Cardinals down in Atlanta that evening – three pinch hit home runs off the bench are sure fast medicine – it was time for another Friday night movie night with all the kids, plus long-time family friends, siblings – Bing and Eleda English. But they just ended up playing jackbox.tv games.
Things hit a real competitive low when Francis spelled “baby” as “babie”. And the strongest drink he had that night was a ginger ale. Maybe he was just too busy reveling in the glory of saving another kid at the Rec-Plex that evening, lifting him out of the pool by his backpack. I think he has a “total saves” tally going somewhere.