The Interlude
Last night, Puck came home with another satchel of Grandma Snicketts toys. He was so excited, he planned to immediately reorganize his room in the morning to accommodate them. When I told him he was on Christmas break, even more excitement. He started prancing.
“I am so delighted! I just want to clean up my room spic and span!”
Then he went to change into his jams and happily surprised Bær by creating a pun that, for once, actually made sense. “Hey, Dad! My jam drawer is jammed … Get it?”
Monday morning, Puck recapped his night.
“The girls were yelling songs at me. Then they were huggy huggy, and then,” he threw himself back on the bed in exasperation, “kiss kiss! It drived me crazy!”
Then he remembered his Christmas present wrapped in brown paper lying on my dresser. He had thoroughly inspected it earlier. Rose taught him well.
“It feels like a fence. I don’t think I ordered anything ‘fency’ on my list.”
There was a transportation issue over at the Big House that afternoon. Mom was leaving to join Jaya and her mom for wedding dress shopping. But not before Mom filled me in on the potential future one-year move to Italy for Polly and family while she wrapped up her PhD involving letters of Christians converting Muslims in the 15th/16th centuries. Or something incredibly specific like that. I guess I’d find that pretty fascinating as well.
So while she waltzed off into the wilds of wedding whirlwinds, Linnea drove myself and Carrie-Bri to Target for a spread of last-minute Christmas foods, and notebooks and paper for myself.
“That man in front of us is buying sweaters for Christmas presents,” Carrie whispered to me as we set jugs of cranberry juice and orange juice on the conveyor belt. “With gift receipts.”
The somewhat older gentleman in a red sweater vest took off his thick glasses to rub his eyes. It’s a Snicketts girls soft spot. Watching men – young or old – trying to buy gifts, or bachelor food. How many times have we remembered that one kid at Dierbergs staring helplessly at the shelves of Hamburger Helper? So many options, so much alone.
I drove Carrie down to Delmar again that afternoon. When we got back – Snuggles guarding the door in his new red cat sweater like a butler – Dad stopped in for a piece of fat chocolate Costco cake before leaving to buy his mega truck. (Francis was in 7th Heaven.) Dad walked back in with a grin on his face.
“You didn’t get it in black, Dad. Really?”
“Leave him alone, Joe,” Carrie said. “He’s in his Jack Bauer phase again.”
Bær picked up Puck in the evening. I joined in dinner and helped Joe and Jaya book their honeymoon flights and cruise to Pan-America.
And got home just in time to pray with Puck, his little eyeballs blinking against my cheek. My big squishy.