The Artist in His Natural Habitat

“Congratulations, man. Today you have completed your entire set of addition flashcards.”

I swear the little man almost started tearing up. “Awww!”

“Why does that bother you though?”

“I’m just a little sad. I love addition.”

Beats me.

Spring was coming. You could feel it. A whole week of temperatures mostly in the 50’s, 60’s. Bird song. Crackers attacking the front door to tear up the front yard: we leashed her up to prowl in the drying mud.

We had also decided to get around to fixing the clothes dryer that afternoon. Young Norse-looking fellow in Titans sweatshirt and toolbox fixed the fuse in under an hour, proclaimed the machine once again in working order. Puck kept Crackers in his room, protecting her from scary noises in the basement. Apparently he also believed the temporary solitary confinement was an excellent opportunity to unleash his artistic abilities on the back of his bedroom door:

Scrawl, scrawl, scrawl.

“LOOK, MOM!”

I’ll admit this was the sort of act you might expect out of a two year-old with a semi-guilty grin, bearing sticky crayons and anti-fine motor skills. No, I wasn’t expecting the white canvas of my First Grader’s door to be intentionally painted top to bottom with magic markers:

“Puck? Did any part of you think that maybe you should have asked about doing this first?”

I could almost see the neutrality in his eyes. “Uh…”

Then I remembered: The Wall. An entire room in my parents’ basement dedicated to the art of doodle: marker, crayon, pen, pencil, paint, nail polish(?). And suddenly it made more sense to me. If Grandpa and Grandma are okay with it going down in one small closed-off room of their house, why wouldn’t Mom be okay with it on the back of a door no one ever sees? I try to think like a First Grader; whenever possible.

Puck joined neighbor friends in the street for bikes and foot races. Our rickety mailbox became the finish line. Finally, that finish line just fell over from exhaustion. To be honest, it didn’t take that much effort. It was a long time coming. Puck lifted the slain conquest Tarzan-style, pronouncing his strength to the rest of the neighborhood children, who somehow didn’t seem all that impressed.

Bacon sarnies for dinner.

Movie Night with the kids, minus Ricky working second shift, plus Joe and Jaya. Rose found the Sweet Tart minis, munched over an episode of “My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding” which we all – I think – unanimously agreed was absolutely ridiculous and uncannily entertaining.