Two of Five
Before our eight o’clock departure that morning, Puck paused his yogurt and toast to ask a question that I’m glad he decided to ask me while we weren’t in public:
“Why do you have to buy kids to adopt them?”
Oh boy.
“You don’t buy kids, hon. You have to pay for paperwork and plane tickets to get them home and stuff like that.”
“Good. Because if that is what happens, that should be immediately changed. ‘Cause if you’re just buying kids, that is inappro-piate.”
A little.
So about the most exciting event of the second day of Vacation Bible School was finding a Chinese coin in the penny buckets. Better than that, though, was all the free hugs and ‘hi moms’ from Puck. It’s always fun to show off to all the other kids who your mom is. Like marking territory.
Another awesome sky as the morning became afternoon on the ride home; bundles of grays and whites and blues. Wind up. Getting warmer.
During Quiet Hour, the rain was beginning to fall, accompanied towards the end by some growls of thunder. Or, “funder” as Puck continues to call it.
He was all excited about taking another nap. A hope that never materialized. Tempting, but in Puck’s world there is just always too much to do. No time to curl up in a blanket two afternoons in a row. Not even with a purring cat.
Anna and Eddie joined the house to fiddle with the ancient Mario set in the basement (couldn’t figure out how to make it work), a glass of milk for Eddie, raking through the bowl of foreign coins for Anna (I let her chose a couple for herself). The afternoon ended early as they slogged home through a downpour to find themselves grounded for not having checked in much earlier with their dad. Oops…
So Puck and I practiced Spanish together a little.
With the evening bringing us fajitas and another game, this time broadcast from Tampa Bay, Puck skated through the house on my skates chanting, “Yadi! Yadi! Yadi! Yadi!” He’s still pretty sure he’ll never play a sport.
Just before seven he talked with El Oso on the phone about a “surprise,” which he spilled a few minutes later:
“Dad’s getting me a watermelon box! Filled with popcicles! With watermelon taste!”
I learned later this was a translation of watermelon bomb pops.