Water Mongers
Last year’s school Field Day was something next to leisure. I hardly had to do anything more than casually fill cups of ice water from the cooler to line up on a table for the kids. This year, I was still at the water table, but something had changed. Despite temperatures barely cruising past a balmy mid-70s, judging by the crazed thirst rampage of these kids, you’d think the skies were blistering.
“WATER!”
“I NEED! WATER!”
“PLEASE! MRS. SILVERSPOON! WATER PLEASE!”
It didn’t matter how fast we filled them, we were constantly cleaned out by stampedes of parched students. Like heat-crazed animals at a Serengeti watering hole, falling all over each other for mas agua. Next year, we’ll ask for two coolers.
So that was my view of Field Day.
Meanwhile, Puck was out running around somewhere with the rest of his Blue Team companions. Contests like potato sack races and obstacle courses. Despite the Scottish theme, there was no tree trunk flipping. But there was a bagpiper.
In the end, Team Blue didn’t win much. At least not that I heard. By that time Mom and Carrie-Bri had brought Yali back to me and he was more interested in running around the front lawn than in hearing the results of all Spirit Week contests.
Back home after a quick dinner of pizzas in the oven, I crashed on the couch for a few minutes. After awhile, Yali found me.
He held up one finger towards me, looked at me intently, and said carefully, “Ka! Ka!” which in Yali-speak means, “Wait right there. I’ll be back in a second.”
He returned with Puck’s Angry Birds blanket, which he spread over me, then ran to the kitchen. He came back once again with two leftover slices of pizza. One for him, one for me. Then he cuddled under the blanket while the two of us ate the pizza.
“Mm, yum!” he said happily to himself.
To wrap up a long day of work, play, and sun, half the kids came over for movie night, including Bing English. There were homemade cheese pretzel poppers from Carrie-Bri, and a bottle of scotch from Bing. And a viewing of 1959’s “Plan 9 from Outer Space”, which once received the acclamation of “worst movie ever made”. Which is exactly the sort of film we like to watch on Friday nights, even if I had a hard time keeping my eyes open as the ten o’clock hour approached.