This is My Opinion

It was a new week, a week where anything could happen, a week where something surprising might happen, a week where you learn you 78 year-old grandma has officially learned how to send text messages. We were all impressed.

Meanwhile in other news, the wind was back. Sun. Balmy temps. Another mild November morning. I was pleased enough to take a neighborhood walk before the threat of weekend snow.

When I returned to a stack of projects and notebooks, Crackers was ready to share in my lunch of refried beans.

The afternoon flew in. As I waited in the brick hall for Puck, Mr. V.’s daughter walked by, pink bow in her blonde hair. She pointed to my tall moccasins:

“I’m getting a pair of boots just like those!” she told me proudly.

Puck was also pretty proud of himself when he emerged from the gym in his orange pants, blue-and-white collared shirt, and Star Wars backpack.

“I was on White today,” he told me.

The color system of good to poor behavior where White = “above and beyond”.

“So what did you do to get to White?” I had to ask.

“I helped quiet the class.”

Something very hot must have recently frozen over.

In the car, however, I discovered that Puck had not finished his quesadillas from lunch.

“Why didn’t you eat them, Puck?”

“They tasted weird.”

“Puck, that’s good stuff. It’s white cheddar all the way from New Zealand.”

Puck wasn’t going to be easily appeased. “Well. They didn’t do a very good job of milking the cows.”

Expense is wasted on youth.

At home, once Puck finally stopped being a goofball and actually finished his spelling papers, he ran outside again in the extraordinarily mild afternoon with the neighbor girls: bikes and rollerblades.

Inside, skirt steak with green peppers and onions – that’s right; I know how to cook veggies – with brown rice on the table for dinner. A little Andy Griffith for some light entertainment as the sun quickly went down on another Monday.