Sick ... Sort Of
“I feel terrible.”
Not the words you want to hear at 12:40 in the morning. Fortunately, my Big Guy’s fever was low and despite losing an hour or more of sleep, he woke up bouncing and eager for stay-at-home-from-school Minecrafting alternatives, once I assured him that, yes, he could still present his book report on sunken Spanish treasure when he returned to school.
Rollerblades, pasting purple glue stick to cloth squares on Legos, rearranging stuffed animals on his shelves. Even with the mild fever, Puck didn’t seem to care much. At all.
Towards the end of the morning, we dropped by school for a stack of homework, followed by Trader Joe’s for afternoon sustenance – Puck chose apple squeezes and banana chips – getting sleepy on the ride back but refusing to nap. Wonder where he gets that from…
“Can I have something to eat?”
Always; even when he’s sick. It should be Puck’s motto. It was going on three o’clock, and we had stayed busy. Math work sheets, dinosaurs, handwriting exercises, and a little iPad. Crackers snoozed in her cat condo in the kitchen, clearly no longer restless now that the routine from former days was – in her mind – reestablished. Crackers was one of the victims of Puck’s tossed aside home schooling era.
Puck began singing before dinner … “Maaaan on the run! Maaaan on the run! Can you turn that song on, Mom?”
He apparently also takes after my talent for correct lyric hearing, on occasion.
Yesterday, he read about the great Houdini with careful interest on the drive home, trying to understand how individual magic tricks worked.
“I’ll bet the elephant was lowered back inside the box and there was a panel for a staircase and he walked down it. That would be very expensive. But you have to pay for the engineering. And if enough people came to see the show, you could pay for it. And then you could pay for the next magic trick too.”
At 6:30, Oxbear Facetimed with Puck on his drive home. The language only they can understand about their self-designed worlds bantered back and forth as usual.
“DAD! GREAT NEWS! I GOT A MEAT CHOPPER!”
“Wow! What does that do?”
“I don’t know.”