We All Play a Part
Now that Paige Popp had her little girl as well, her little lad was in need of a pal before his mom resumed work with the police force. Call in Puck. Puck, who will friend the mailbox. Unfortunately… when that little pal comes down with a low grade fever in the night… Well, what’re you going to do? Little tears began welling.
“A tear dropped on the floor, Mom,” he told me later.
But that was more because he later lost Minecraft privileges for the weekend. To soothe all of his wounded spirits, Puck squeegeed the windows. Then blew bubbles out the windows. It was enough. Especially when I promised him I’d help with tree house designs in the afternoon.
Carrie invited us out for the late morning/early afternoon, including grilled cheese for lunch. While Puck caught up on some Christmas flicks, I joined Carrie, Francis, and Linnea in the kitchen to discuss updated family matters. Linnea was not looking forward to another chiropractic appointment. She would be joined by Mom and Carrie, who were having their thyroids tweaked…
“It’s so… awkward,” Linnea groaned. “And they’re always playing romantic Italian music. Like ‘When the moon hits your eye’…” Joe had been called into Vanbuskirk’s for a Friday shift before we had arrived. And Francis was also leaving for work soon. He presented his idea of giving Puck private swimming lessons at the Y. It sounded like a decent plan, so Francis suggested it to Puck as well…
“You would have to listen very well. And you would have to memorize my three pools rules. And also… you’d have to call me Mr. Snicketts.”
Puck stared back at the uncle whom he never took seriously…
“Very funny, Uncle Francis.”
Back home later in the afternoon, Puck sprawled on the couch for over an hour listening to the rest of the “Call it Courage” audio recording. Then we marched in circles around the house at his suggestion before homemade pizza and Puck’s first time watching “Sarah, Plain and Tall”. He got into that one more than I would have expected.
We received an unexpected call to join the troops again at 5:30 that evening. Puck was eager for a pajama party and arrived donned in footies ready to help arrange the Christmas presents under the tree while Joe presented the latest Red Bull surfing on cranberry fields clip.
This time, while Dad was on babysitting duty, Mom joined us to experience – for maybe the first time in over five years – the collective force of the Snicketts children experiencing the wonders of mostly terrible filmography.
“Whoa! What have you been feeding this cat?” Joe asked, picking up Crackers’ heavier sister.
“She’s not fat!” Rose snapped.
Mom opened a box of Christmas ornaments from Grandma Snicketts to deck the tree. Carrie hung glittery gold stars on the windows.
“Let all the kitties come to me,” said Joe, cradling Madeline. “And do not hinder them. Madeline, you’re so preeeeeeeety.”
Then he handed Rose a gift – black dog knuckles.
“Oh yeah,” said Rose. “I’m going to punch people with this.”
There were some issues in the film selection that evening. Around a hodgepodge of taquitos, fresh veggies [“I’m so glad I’m not a vegetarian,” Joe groaned, snapping into a snow pea.], red Christmas ornament cookies [“They’re so obnoxious,” Rose declared, slapping the box onto the coffee table.], homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, and Langer’s apple juice.
“Let’s watch the Christmas Bunny,” Carrie suggested as we finally got around to sifting through Netflix.
“No!”
“No way.”
“Come on. I’m the only one who has a suggestion.”
“No!”
“No way, Carrie.”
“Christmas Bunny!”
“No!”
We watched “The Christmas Bunny”.
The cats fought above a rug of catnip. And we left in the light rain of a mild December night.