Sealed Pact

I poured Puck a bowl of cereal, underestimating the slippy-ness of the contents. Too many Corn Pops clacked into the bowl. Puck wasn’t disappointed…

“YES!! BWAH HA HA!!”

When I poured myself a bowl, he stabbed his pencil into the middle of the pile of golden orbs…

“I conquered your cereal!”

Nothing is ever ordinary.

As the afternoon stretched into cool sunshine and breezes, we opened the windows. Puck sat beside me on the couch, hoarding the junk drawer. He pulled out several forgotten harmonicas. In the middle of our reading of the Byzantine Empire, he yelled down the hall…

“DAD! I DECIDED I WANT TO PLAY THE HRE-MONICA!”

He paused while I continued reading, then remembered something else…

“AND A COLLECTOR OF HARMONICS TOO BECAUSE NANA HAS SOME COOL OLD ONES AT HER HOUSE!”

He hadn’t forgotten about this revelation. Later he informed me…

“Mom, could you help me find an old old old old oooooold, not that old though, oooooold harmonica in my room?”

He joined the neighbor kids while I made dinner. A brother and sister down the street. The little girl insists on calling Puck by his middle name instead. When Bær walked down to call him home, Puck walked importantly through the front door.

“She says I’m her best friend now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. She had me touch a leaf she picked from a tree and now I’m her best friend.”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

Puck had one final thought before bed…

“Mom, I decided to shave.”