What Inspires Us
CardGals: Episode 14: cardgals.tumblr.com
“Hey, Collette,” Linnea grinned through almost two-year-old braces, decked out in the second-hand gray Billabong sweat set I found at Ditto on Tuesday. She held out both arms for effect. “Now I can look like a 40 year-old mom from the 90s.”
There was some truth to that statement. You never know what comes into fashion. Miss Tin Grin was about to lose those braces, by the way. Or so the projection went. Another two or three weeks. In the meantime, while waiting for this liberation decree, she joined friends at Jimmy John’s for dinner, while the rest of the family still available sat down for quinoa burgers and tomato soup at the table.
“What kind of burgers?” Francis had asked earlier – with high skepticism – before leaving for work.
“Quinoa,” Mom told him again.
Mom describes all kinds of food with the same cheerfulness. Whether it’s real burgers or fake burgers. And for Dan, that’s like slapping a butterfly garden on a nuclear waste dump. There’s no disguising it.
Shock. “Mom, I can’t eat that.”
He immediately began examining the refrigerator.
It had been a productive day. Another podcast. Swiss Colony petit fours for lunch. Grandma’s car fixed with help from Mom and Francis. Another “Green” at school for Puck – always a big deal. Another art project lugged out of school to barely fit in the car. This time it was a time machine/airplane box. At least that’s what I gathered.
“MOM! WE HAVE TO GO DOWN TO THE ART ROOM AFTER CARPOOL!” came the eager proclamation as his winter coat and lunch box came flying out of the classroom.
About ten minutes later we were walking out of school with a box – about as big as Puck – balanced on his head like an enormous water jug. More inspiration, more adventure.
In the car, he strapped on a cardboard vest, one of the discards of a fellow classmate. The ultimate pack rat, my son.
We were back home again by six-thirty or so. I sorted a few things in the kitchen while Puck discarded Chucks and socks on the couch.
“Eeeew…”
“What, Puck?” I called from the kitchen,
“I licked my toe.”