Where There's Imagination
Dream Account
We had plans for an ocean escape in a small dinghy sort of contraption. Secrecy was highly necessary. All us kids with Puck and the Bear. In a last-ditch effort to gather the remaininig necessary supplies, I in vain searched for glow-in-the-dark nail polish, a huge jug of sunscreen, and a dark umbrella from a small Reconstructionalist shop owner by the dock who whispered to me mutterings of anarchy.
Each morning can be a small circus, I guess. Puck collaborates the table dishes to present a form of flying-saucer-magic-show somewhere between strawberry yogurt and the sun of a yolk on his plate that he tries to hide from me with one of the “magic” cups. It’s the sort of potential situation where, when the cat takes a flying leap over her water bowl and scatters modified rain across the linoleum, the boy-child of the family will disrobe down to his robot underwear to avoid the puddle and place a wire cooling rack over the offensive highly trafficked area as acting bridge.
“Be careful when you enter the Water Zone,” he warns me, abandoning his footies in the kitchen. “Actually, be very careful when you enter the Water Zone.”
So… Puck went snooping. I knew it was going to happen eventually, but he dug up the box of rubbery new honey bee yellow wellies. Only four weeks early. Not bad. He wears wellies everywhere of course, so I can only hope that he doesn’t break holes into them before Christmas.
I opened the windows before lunch and joined Puck in the front yard. The discussion of kisses emerged…
“No one can kiss me during the Christmas season,” Puck announced, after I had pinned one on his chubby face. “It’s the rule of my life.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“And no one can give me kisses on Hallowe’en either.”
“So never on the holidays? Why is that?”
“It’s personal.”
There’s just something about Puck trying to interpret the ads in the Yellow Pages via displays of Clip Art and Stock Photos…
“This is a company that smashes money!”
“They’re trying to sell heads!”
We took our walk for further strange cat-petting opportunities and penny hunts. This time it was a wheat penny, 1941. As the school bus let off its daily bundle, a boy a few years older than Puck ran down the street, waving to Puck as he went.
“Hey,” Puck called to him. “Some kids came up my driveway before. Do you know who they are?”
“Yeah, I know them,” the boy replied, hustling home.
“They disappeared like fireflies in the night!” Puck shouted after him in closing statement.
At dinner, Puck suddenly bounced off his seat and ran over to me with a loud gasp…
“Mom! Look!”
– He sprawled on the floor and grabbed his large toe. –
“I’m turning into Dad! Look at all the hair on it!”
Rose walked in the door first, claiming something about deadly disease and Stinkerbelle. While Stinkerbelle’s sister practically tore up the house. Chalk that up to catnip and a full moon. Rose clipped her claws for me, which probably added to the melee. She was a decent distraction during Wes Anderson’s “Moonrise Kingdom” and a table spread in Joe’s selection of TGIF’s potato skin chips, Cool Ranch Doritos, and thin mint cookies, with Arizona tea to supplement. He had recently got a haircut, which worked well with the new spectacles. Carrie caught me up on anything new in the last couple of days, including Mom’s disembarkation to Kentucky for a relaxing weekend with Grandma Combs.
We did cringe almost unanimously throughout a variety of passages in the film, however. Carrie concluded that probably everyone else in the world wouldn’t have had a problem with it. Which is probably very possible. Anyway, scouts, northern islands, huge thunderstorms, and a lot of yellow filters. Surprisingly, the Peanut Gallery didn’t have a lot to say about this one. Except…
“Gah! Is this legal?”