Long Live the King!

It occurred to me recently that our kids have been pretty isolated this winter—what with all the infectious diseases, hazardous road conditions, bone-chilling temperatures, and 50-mile-an-hour winds.

You know, all the typical signs of the apocalypse. 

Did you know that Al Gore freezing over is the 5th sign? Let’s just hope he wasn’t in Atlanta this past week or Kirk Cameron will have to make a movie about it. (In case you’re keeping track, that’s a religious, a political, a geographical, and a pop culture joke all rolled into one.)

[Please tell me she doesn’t think Kirk Cameron is representative of current pop culture.]

I just went so far off track I don’t even remember where I was going with this… Oh! Stir-crazy. That’s where I was.

I didn’t realize just how bad this cabin fever was until both of the kids started asking—no, begging—for their friends by name. I never knew a 2- and 3-year-old could miss companionship so much. Especially when they have each other. And a mother who spends 75% of her day pretending to be scared when one of them “hides.”

Not wanting to disappoint, I let the kids play with their friends every single day. Because I would never want to deny them the comfort of their closest companions.

Meet:

You may remember her from the epic, 1-episode-long Puppetears series or that one time Brian got pulled over by the police).

I’m sure you’ll recognize this guy.

I can identify with his tragic eyebrows.

Then there’s this little fella.

He’s a washcloth puppet we got when JJ was born. He’s dingy but sentimental. Also, he’s handy if we need to exfoliate the kids and get them to do something they wouldn’t otherwise do (like obey us).

Then there’s this guy. He’s a giraffe finger puppet, but JJ thinks he’s a reindeer.

But JJ also licks the car windows, so I wouldn’t trust him.

Finally, we have JJ and Averi’s favorite friend:  His Royal Majesty The King.

So, there they all are:  Patty Kate, Bert, Frog, Giraffe/Reindeer, and The King (we’re pretty proud of our creativity with those names). They’re all the fun of real friends without any of the responsibility, germs, or potty accidents—well, there was the one time Frog wet himself, but that wasn’t his fault.

[Someone needs to check the carbon monoxide levels in that house.]

Here’s a typical play date with The King:

JJ:  “Mama, I want to talk to The King!”

Averi:  “Talk to Kiiiiiiiiiiing!”

Katy:  “Sure. Let me get him out of bed.”

(Shoves hand up The King’s hind end and makes absolutely no attempt to disguise voice.)

King:  “Hi, kids! Have you been kind and obeyed your mommy and daddy today?”

Averi:  “No.”

JJ:  “Yes. Um, King. Come here. I want to show you my train tracks.”

King:  “Wow! These look just as cool as they did 15 minutes ago, JJ.”

JJ:  “Um, King. Look. This is Thomas. And I have 4 other Thomases. You can play with one of them.”

King:  “Thanks, JJ. I would love to play trains…again.”

Averi:  “Kiiiiiiiiiiing! Kisssssssssss!”

King:  “Sure, Averi. I’ll give you a kiss.”

Averi:  “Kiiiiiiiiiiing! Huuuuuuug!”

King:  “And a hug.”

(Hugging/choking commences.)

JJ:  “Um, King. I went poo poo on the potty, and I got FIVE potty treats!”

King:  “You did? That’s excellent, JJ! I think it’s so great you obey your parents and excrete in the toilet so you can earn dehydrated yogurt drops as a reward. Well done!”

Averi:  “Kiiiiiiiiiiing! Poo poo in potty.”

King:  “Do YOU want to go poo poo in the potty, Averi?”

Averi:  “No.”

JJ:  “Um, King. I want to show you my train tracks.”

King:  “Didn’t we just do that? Hang on, let me go see if Giraffe wants to see them.”

And so it goes for hours.

And HOURS.

These kids could tell every minute detail of their day to The King and his subjects and never tire of it.

And I’ll openly admit that these puppets have a far greater success rate when it comes to mealtime:

The King:  “JJ and Averi better not eat all my broccoli or I’ll have to awkwardly tickle their necks with my arm on a stick!”

Works like a charm, y’all. I’m not even kidding. I’ll be so sad the day our kids no longer listen to the puppets. Long live The King (and his friends), I say!

Giraffe/Reindeer:  “Averi, I think it’s time for you to learn how to give your mommy a proper foot massage.”

[Seriously, what’s the status on that Carbon Monoxide report?]

Do your kids have puppet friends who manipulate them into doing things that are actually in their best interest but that you couldn’t get them to do on your own? Or is that just me?