The Agony and the Ecstasy

Puck walked past the school office window. Snarl on his face. Up went his arm, hat clenched in his fist, down to the ground.

WHAM!

This prompted further investigation. As Puck disappeared down the hallway with his class to the cafeteria, I wrapped up my hour of service: phones and the spelling bee list.

There he was, sitting with his buddies, stuffing cucumber slices. Angry tears in his eyes. I scrunched down low to his ear, so the other kids couldn’t hear me. Like they could in that cacophony of sound anyway.

“What’s up, bud? Did you get in trouble?”

Nod.

“What’d you do?”

“I said a bad word.”

“What was it?”

“Chicken butt.”

Ah. The swear words of second grade.

“We’ll talk about it later. I’m not angry with you. Wipe your tears.”

Kiss on the top of his head, and I left for Ditto (brown Epic Threads sweater for Gus), Great Harvest (two loaves of honey wheat and a bacon cheddar scone for me; bagging clothes for two hours works up an appetite).

Puck was in a fine mood when he ran down the hall, Star Wars backpack swaying in the wind he created with his speed.

We stopped at World Market for upcoming birthday gifts, including a copy of Little Golden Books’ “Scuffy the Tugboat.”

“Ah, Scuffy the Tugboat,” said the checker. “I spent some time in Belgium when I was a kid because my mom was in the service, and this was a big hit over there. Funny, so were the Atlanta Braves. The only baseball team we could get on the TV over there.”

Whap! Whap! Whap!

Puck was jump-roping, with his pants as the rope, in the kitchen. Transition to jams after dinner. Minutes later, he was whacking at a small boulder in his lap with a small hammer. Rock chips flying. I nixed it; no protective eye-ware.
After going down to bed for the night, he walked out in his footies.

“I’m just having weird thoughts, like, um … why was I created, and um … how could God live forever? … I want to go to Heaven, real bad. … People always think it’s in the clouds. I don’t know why they think that. … I just want to devote my life to Christ, not to Satan.”

He and Oxbear worked through these deep theological issues while Puck mutilated a votive candle with a small hammer at the table.