said. Barbi was always talking about disasters bad witches could make and some of them sounded so real he had bad dreams about them.
“Don’t be calling your own cousin a slut, little boy,” Annette said.
“Now see what you’ve done, Duane—you’ve got all these kids talking ugly,” Karla said.
“Honey, they’re kids,” he reminded her. “They can talk ugly without any help from me.”
“What about Six Flags? Have any of you kids thought of that?” Karla asked.
“What about Six Flags, are we going?” Willy asked.
“Yeah, are we going?” Bubbles asked, and the others chimed in, all except Barbi, who refused to join the clamor. Baby Paul banged his spoon and threw his carrots off his high chair.
“The reason I mention it is because Pa-Pa is the only person I trust to drive on those Arlington freeways and Arlington’s where Six Flags is,” Karla said. “If he won’t drive we can’t plan trips to Six Flags because it’s too far for all of us to walk.”
“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m the grandparent,” Duane said. “It’s the parents’ job to take kids to amusement parks.”
Nonetheless he and Karla were usually the ones who took the grandkids to Six Flags. When Julie and Jack and Nellie and Dickie went they left the kids at home.
“We wouldn’t have any fun ourselves if we took the kids,” Nellie said, succinctly summarizing the prevailing attitude.
Duane noticed that all the young eyes had swiveled in his direction. The thought that his walking might deprive them of trips to Six Flags put the whole matter in a different light.
“Well, it’s really no problem,” he said. “The next time you kids all want to go to Six Flags I’ll just hire a limo. And Grandma can ride along with you to chaperone.”
“Oh boy, a limo...a limo!” Bubbles said, so ecstatically that Duane congratulated himself on the clever way he had trumped Karla’s ace.
It was a clean victory, too. All of the kids had seen limos galore on TV but none of them had ever ridden in one. The consensus was that riding in a limo would be even more fun than Six Flags itself—after all, they had been to Six Flags quite a few times already.
Karla, who knew when she had been trumped, didn’t say a word. If Duane turned out to be serious about walking, then it was going to be a long campaign. Better to fight and run away, and live to fight another day.
“Cobbler time!” Rag announced. “There’s not many things better on earth than blackberry cobbler.”
“Riding in a limo is better,” Willy assured her.
“I hope the driver is a member of the Mafia,” Barbi said. “I hope he wears a dark suit and is a member of the Mafia.”
“Why would you want to be driven to Six Flags by a member of the Mafia, honey?” Annette inquired. Sometimes the things that came out of her daughter’s mouth shocked her a little. She never had that problem with Loni, who was so quiet she often wouldn’t even say what color socks she wanted to put on in the morning.
“I love the Mafia. I want to join it when I get big,” Barbi said. “It’s my favorite thing in the whole world.”
Then, while everyone was absorbed with their cobbler, Baby Paul somehow managed to push with his feet and tip his high chair over backward; when it hit the floor he popped out of it like a living cork and went sliding far across the kitchen floor. The fall didn’t hurt him at all but when everybody rushed over to see if he was injured he got rattled and began to shriek at the top of his lungs.
“I told Nellie that high chair was no good; she just doesn’t listen,” Karla said.
“Shrieks and screams, typical day,” Rag said, contemplating the mess of dishes she had to clean up.
8
D UANE HAD PUT A SLIDING GLASS DOOR along the wall of the master bedroom, so he could step outside at night and gauge the weather, sniff the breeze, look at the stars, or just sit in a lawn chair for a while, relaxing. On a dark night, when there were no stars to
“Don’t be calling your own cousin a slut, little boy,” Annette said.
“Now see what you’ve done, Duane—you’ve got all these kids talking ugly,” Karla said.
“Honey, they’re kids,” he reminded her. “They can talk ugly without any help from me.”
“What about Six Flags? Have any of you kids thought of that?” Karla asked.
“What about Six Flags, are we going?” Willy asked.
“Yeah, are we going?” Bubbles asked, and the others chimed in, all except Barbi, who refused to join the clamor. Baby Paul banged his spoon and threw his carrots off his high chair.
“The reason I mention it is because Pa-Pa is the only person I trust to drive on those Arlington freeways and Arlington’s where Six Flags is,” Karla said. “If he won’t drive we can’t plan trips to Six Flags because it’s too far for all of us to walk.”
“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m the grandparent,” Duane said. “It’s the parents’ job to take kids to amusement parks.”
Nonetheless he and Karla were usually the ones who took the grandkids to Six Flags. When Julie and Jack and Nellie and Dickie went they left the kids at home.
“We wouldn’t have any fun ourselves if we took the kids,” Nellie said, succinctly summarizing the prevailing attitude.
Duane noticed that all the young eyes had swiveled in his direction. The thought that his walking might deprive them of trips to Six Flags put the whole matter in a different light.
“Well, it’s really no problem,” he said. “The next time you kids all want to go to Six Flags I’ll just hire a limo. And Grandma can ride along with you to chaperone.”
“Oh boy, a limo...a limo!” Bubbles said, so ecstatically that Duane congratulated himself on the clever way he had trumped Karla’s ace.
It was a clean victory, too. All of the kids had seen limos galore on TV but none of them had ever ridden in one. The consensus was that riding in a limo would be even more fun than Six Flags itself—after all, they had been to Six Flags quite a few times already.
Karla, who knew when she had been trumped, didn’t say a word. If Duane turned out to be serious about walking, then it was going to be a long campaign. Better to fight and run away, and live to fight another day.
“Cobbler time!” Rag announced. “There’s not many things better on earth than blackberry cobbler.”
“Riding in a limo is better,” Willy assured her.
“I hope the driver is a member of the Mafia,” Barbi said. “I hope he wears a dark suit and is a member of the Mafia.”
“Why would you want to be driven to Six Flags by a member of the Mafia, honey?” Annette inquired. Sometimes the things that came out of her daughter’s mouth shocked her a little. She never had that problem with Loni, who was so quiet she often wouldn’t even say what color socks she wanted to put on in the morning.
“I love the Mafia. I want to join it when I get big,” Barbi said. “It’s my favorite thing in the whole world.”
Then, while everyone was absorbed with their cobbler, Baby Paul somehow managed to push with his feet and tip his high chair over backward; when it hit the floor he popped out of it like a living cork and went sliding far across the kitchen floor. The fall didn’t hurt him at all but when everybody rushed over to see if he was injured he got rattled and began to shriek at the top of his lungs.
“I told Nellie that high chair was no good; she just doesn’t listen,” Karla said.
“Shrieks and screams, typical day,” Rag said, contemplating the mess of dishes she had to clean up.
8
D UANE HAD PUT A SLIDING GLASS DOOR along the wall of the master bedroom, so he could step outside at night and gauge the weather, sniff the breeze, look at the stars, or just sit in a lawn chair for a while, relaxing. On a dark night, when there were no stars to
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