Weirdos

“Can I just have one of your dungeon doors, Dad?”

“A meteor has landed!”

“Dad, I just got like a million weapons going into The Crimson!”

Puck and his dad on a Sunday afternoon.

Between worlds, Puck began the passed-down-Rose ritual of shaking presents under the tree. I don’t remember doing that as a kid. Christmas-anticipation was a thing of myth. Ebeneezer.

Meanwhile, Carrie tried to convince him that schoolbooks were on his Christmas list.

“WHAT?! TAKE THAT OFF MY CHRISTAS LIST!”

“ONION! WHAT IS THIS HUGE PRESENT?! IT HAS YOUR NAME ON IT!”

Rose, tied up with a hair-dye, could not assist. “Hmm. Shake it.”

“No!” Carrie scolded. “That’s why I specifically had to put a fragile sticker on there so she wouldn’t shake it.”

We know our foibles well.

Meanwhile, the hair color Rose had selected for herself was not working.

“I look like a carrot.”

No joke. She left for Walgreen’s.

The living room circle expanded when Mom, Dad, and El Oso woke from afternoon naps. Christmas music playing:

“He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!”

Carrie wrapped up the hair dye utensils. “I do not like Christmas songs that tell me what to do.”

“Me neither,” Rose agreed.

Cracker Barrel.

Two tables end-to-end in the corner. Possibly Carrie’s all-time favorite restaurant.

Nearing the end of the meal, after noting how Fran’s sirloin and fries had been so carefully arranged on his plate, she also added, “I don’t know about you, El Oso, but I think I tasted essence of funnel cake in the chicken this evening.”

El Oso laughed. “You’re right. I did too.”