Word Processor

Puck ran straight down the hallway to those tempting blue and green beanbag chairs, plastering himself into the center of the one at the far end of the hall. I usually let him get his fix before we leave, and I commence with the expected pleasantries.

“So … what color were you today?”

“Green.”

“Nice one.”

“Yeah. Snicky was on blue today, but he lost his blue card, so Mr. V said, ‘Just take Puck’s. He doesn’t need it.’” He jumped up from the beanbag chair and grinned. “I took that as a compliment.”

We walked out to the car together, Puck toting the black leather luggage roller from a box of things Grandma Combs had given away recently. His idea. There’s something especially grown-up about wheeling around your homework notebook and lunchbox, I guess.

Back home and halfway through his homework math sheet, Puck stood up from the table. I was fixing Trader Joe’s pizza dough, tomato sauce, and cheese on the counter. You could see the deep thoughts rippling through Puck’s head as he paused the scribbling pencil.

“Mom? What’s a gulf?”

“A space between things, like a chasm.”

“Can you cross over the chasm?”

“Not easily.”

“Is there a chasm between Heaven and hell?”

“Well, maybe not a physical chasm like you’re thinking.”

“So you can’t cross over from Heaven to hell?”

“No, bud. God doesn’t allow that to happen.”

“You can’t turn into evil once you’re in Heaven, right?”

“Right.”

“Only angels can?”

This kid is good. “Well, that happened before sin had been abolished.”

This answer satisfied him.

So did more than a third of a Trader Joe’s pizza and a large bowl of frozen blueberries. Like a weed…

Meanwhile, I’m waiting for one or two of those super big snows that we’ve been getting in recent years. I learned for the first time today that private schooled kids don’t have to make up snow days in June. Bring on the ice storms.