Tuesday Like a Monday
4:07AM.
There was a bird tweeting outside the window. A bird. At 4:07 in the morning. Happy, annoying, trilling. Maybe it was because I was only half-awake, but I was in a little disbelief. The bird from Crazy Town. He started some ridiculous concerto-worthy trills a few minutes later, which I believe later evolved into a duet, and must have eventually turned lullaby, because I fell asleep.
Puck was spinning in circles to South American pan pipes late that morning. Endless spinning:
“Mom?”
“Yup?”
Spinning, spinning.
“Are you sure you want to name my baby brudder that?”
“I like that name. Don’t you?”
A big grin spread over his face, spinning, spinning:
“I want to name him: PUCK 2!”
Half an hour later he was painting the back patio step with charcoal briquettes dug out of a bag from the basement. Pure black. His hands required extra scrubbing before lunch. Never bored; not really.
The afternoon was still cold. We waited inside for it to warm a little, watched a little Reading Rainbow, blast back to the good old days of LeVar Burton and a super imagination.
Puck pulled the Mexican poncho over his “Who wants to swim with Shark Boy?” t-shirt, ready for the great outdoors. Neighbors were waiting, fresh off the bus:
“CAAAAL-VIIIIN!! CAAAAL-VIIIIN!!”
Puck hustled out his newest birthday presents, armloads of them, including the Super Soaker – that was a big hit – and the blue bank safe. An hour later, Puck walked somewhat solemnly back to the front door, with the safe boxed in one arm:
“What happened, bud?”
“Anna and Eddie had to go back inside. They were fighting over my safe and Anna punched Eddie and broke his glasses.”
We can’t all win, I guess. Puck needed a hair trim anyway; always adds on a couple of years, one nest’s-worth of wheat-colored fluff.
El Oso rolled in before dark with a mammoth headache where Puck and I were wrapping up another necessary session of Garfield. I think the pork steak and broccoli helped. My aspirin, however, always comes in the form of another Cardinals win. Quite effective.