Snapshot: Second Grade

BOOM!

Puck explosion. I think the hallway knows to clear out of the way when the kid in the fat orange coat comes running out of the gym every weekday afternoon.

“WHITE!”

The Color Code of Second Grade seems to be a highly effective behavior moderator.

Puck stared at the bowl of chickpea pasta slathered with Italian sauce from The Hill and a healthy garnish of mozzarella.

“Eat it, Puck. It’s good.”

What started out as a decent meal the first time he tried chickpea pasta, was slowly disintegrating into this idea that he couldn’t, under any circumstances, swallow any more “not real” pasta.

“Come on, bud.”

Puck closed his eyes in mock-agony. “OHHHHH! Goodbye, World!” And swallowed.

He survived. In fact, he survived the whole bowl.

I could hear the unnecessarily loud screams of neighbor kids in the street, running around in the dark – one bright orange band of sun about to slip into the west.

Puck, fortunately, did not hear them, or he would have been tearing out there faster than a seven year-old boy who didn’t want to eat his chickpea pasta. Anyway, he was busy with two fat boxes of Legos, “Adventures in Odyssey”, and a large bowl of frozen blueberries for dessert. Stained purple lips included. Sometimes I think he doesn’t realize napkins exist.

“WRAP ME UP LIKE A BURRITO, DAD!”

I’m not sure who started this whole wrapping-up-in-a-blanket-like-a-burrito idea; probably Carrie when we were still kids. But it’s always a hit. This was after he went body surfing on the cold linoleum in the same fuzzy eggplant blanket.

Oxbear rolled him and lifted him as easy as a pancake through the hallway to bed. I wish I could tote this 62-pounder as easily myself. But no such luck. With only eleven inches left to match his mama, this kid is going to be an ox just like his dad.