Snacks

“Hi, Mama! Hi, Mama!”

The deceptively sweet voice of three year-old innocence soothingly dragged me out of dreams an hour too early in the morning.

“Hi, Yali…”

“Manzana?”

I don’t remember how I replied. All I remember is waking up some ten or fifteen minutes later with my pre-preschooler munching an apple in my ear. The version of my alarm clock varies depending on the day.

It was late in the afternoon. Puck was a little glum while Heidi, Yali, and the other kids ran around the playground together in big wind. I tried to cheer him up.

“Dad’s going to Target after work this evening. I could put in a snack request for you. What would you like?”

“Pringles. And… raw pasta.”

Puck’s Monthly What-do-You-Want-to-be-When-You-Grow-Up Status:

“A scientist.”