The Collector

Puck woke me up this morning with a handful of red tabs from the La Croix cans:

“Look! Red ones! I didn’t even know they made these! Mom, can I try one? This ro-ho-ho and a bottle of rum?” He pushed another cold, tall thin can of La Croix into my hands. “Here, can you open this ro-ho-ho and a bottle of rum?”

Puck had the hiccups again. Day two. I’ve heard about, and observed, some violent episodes of this self-annoyance in El Oso’s side of the family. Puck seems to occasionally follow suit. Breakfast began during Round One:

“Dear Jesus, thank You for this day and for our food. And – HICCUP – please take away these hiccups – HICCUP – and sorry about the hiccups during the prayer, but I can’t help it. Amen.”

On cold days like these, the blood can be sluggish. Puck – dressed head to boot in Cardinals and red things – and I, warmed it up with another 10AM dance party. Despite Puck’s natural dose of daily energy, these sessions rarely happen easily:

“Just get moving, bud. You’ve got to get some kind of exercise in this morning.”

“Oh NO!” Puck laughed loudly. “You’re not doing the WESTERN SPAGHETTO with me!”

“The Western what?”

“The WESTERN SPAGHETTO!”

“The tango?”

“Yeah!”

By the afternoon, he was requesting to tango. Fortunately for my shoeless feet, I didn’t know how.

The mail came after two. Puck pounced on the bundle of ads, as usual, before I could stuff them in the recycling bag.

“Mom can you cut out this cheeseburger picture for Uncle Fran?”

Later, I noticed him gift-wrapping the cheeseburger in my freshly laundered lime green dish towel, which he tied with yellow thread. To be delivered on a later day.

El Oso drove up at seven, let Puck help drive the truck around the block and back in the frosty black night.

Puck’s Blog: Age 6: Day #28

“I just have one thing to say. I really like your hair, Mom. Could I snip some off?”