Yoda, Pigs, & Aloes

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Puck spent part of his morning watching the world next to his snoozing dad. Blinking little ball peeking from behind the bed covers.

“Here comes the gravy train,” OLeif said as he took the tiny bowl of rice cereal from Collette.

Puck opened his mouth like a baby bird, waiting for the rubber-coated spoon of fluffy white goodness. By the end of the feed, he was coated in so much rice cereal, that if Collette had a newspaper, she could have made him into a piñata.

Puck was over at the house floating through the air. Carrie was carrying him around in his blue chair, also known as his “bumbo”, given to him as a hand-me-down from Ju Hobcoggin.

“You have your own flying saucer, Puck,” Collette told him as he grasped his chubby hands together.

“Like Yoda in his hovering chair,” said Carrie. “Hungry I am!”

Puck was then escorted to the living room where he sat in on Frances’ and Linnea’s televised sign language lesson. He kicked his little legs and made his bouncy rock and sucked on his wow in great concentration.

Downstairs, Collette was helping Rose put together her exam schedule. Rose was in the middle of a Webkins World.

“Come on, Rose.”

“OK, just a second.”

Rose spun the “Wheel of Wow” on the screen. After the wheel had finally stopped turning, Rose was not pleased with the results.

“Work boots? I don’t need work boots.”

“Shut it off, Rose.”

“Just let me put the boots on my pig.”

After doing so, Rose noticed her virtual garden.

“The pumpkin’s ready to harvest. Harvest!” She commanded the computer.

The afternoon brought the rain. Mom, Collette, and Carrie-Bri were off to Trader Joe’s. On the way, they passed The Glade on the bluff – one of Collette’s favorite spots. Rain beads sketched grass blades on the windows – sloshing foam off a freshly-washed road.

Upon arriving at the store, the first thing in Mom’s cart was an aloe plant.

“Oh, no, another plant for her to kill,” Carrie moaned. “The poor little plant is probably shivering in its pot.”

The aloe at least survived on the way back to the house while Carrie lamented another Thursday night of Arabic.

“It’s a class of morons,” she said. “During pronunciation some of them are like, ‘Uh… Rahn dalla… something where you roll the ‘r’… allah.’ I’m serious. They’ll really say that.”

Later that afternoon, Dad returned from work for a jog before the next storm arrived. And Puck was happily bouncing in his seat with his toes curling under his crocheted blanket.

Meanwhile, Rose was looking good in her dark hair.