Times Have Changed
On Tuesday evening when I kissed Puck goodnight on the top of his head, I made an unpleasant discovery.
“Puck, why does your head still smell like metal? Didn’t you wash it?”
“I only put shampoo on the back of my head, Mom.”
“Is that what you do every time you take a shower?”
“Yup!”
“You do that so the shampoo doesn’t get in your eyes, I’m guessing?”
“Yup!”
I wondered why he hadn’t smelled so clean lately. Then I also wondered how many weeks, months?, might have passed without Puck actually cleaning his scalp. At this point, I guess I don’t care to know.
Meanwhile, it was about 10:15 and I was back downstairs at school rubbing down tables with detergent and sanitizer. A few of the Kindergarten moms were busy preparing a birthday party at one of the tables. Most of their time was spent deliberating over which kids were allergic and/or not allowed to eat certain ingredients in the birthday snacks: eggs, dairy, gluten, corn syrup, dye… I guess birthdays don’t sound quite as fun as they used to be. And by “used to”, I’m guessing prior to 1960. Was anyone allergic to anything before then?
After catching part of the game at the Big House while Yali snoozed in the other room – one of those cutthroat Cards/Cubs match-ups downtown – I waited for Puck and Heidi to emerge from carpool. One measly little thunderclap outside on the walk in. It didn’t take long for Heidi, Annie-Bea, and another girl to conduct an updated Yali-census. His birthday was coming up, and they wanted gift ideas.
“I can get him stuffed animals.”
“I can get him planes.”
“I’m going to give him the book – The Little Engine That Could.”
“But I was going to give that to him!”
“I’m going to give him EVERYTHING THAT I HAVE!”
The afternoon ended a little earlier than usual when we left to bring Puck to Snicky’s house for another play date. Although when I was a kid, no 3rd grade boy would be caught dead calling it a “play date”. If he did, he’d be labeled a “sissy” for life. Times have changed.
So while Puck spent some time getting to know the six guinea pig babies born at Snicky’s that morning, Yali and I trekked through intermittent rain showers for home.