There were more people than seats outside so a bunch of us simply plopped down on the grass in a circle off to the side to chat, surrounding a thirteen-month-old at his level. He was just starting to take a few wobbly steps (you can do it you can do it!) and the grass was soft on his feet and cushy for falling. Grass is a rare and wonderful thing these days and I think we were celebrating it, too. Formal we were not.
Out came one of my Peruvian finger puppets, one of my brightest and prettiest. A parrot. His toddler big brother got a puppy.
And that puppy never again left those hands no matter where he ran, jumped, or skipped–success! New favorite toy! I told the young parents the puppets were theirs to take home and that hey, I had just ordered sixty more.
And I thought they had when they left early to put their boys to bed, even though the baby was totally at the hold, look, and drop stage. We all glanced around and it seemed to be gone and that was fine and we went back to our conversation, but a few minutes later I spotted the parrot still there next to the guy furthest away from me.
I motioned towards it in the grass. “Hey, would you flip me the bird?”
Startled, and then the both of them totally cracking up, the guy next to him pronounced: “You did NOT just SAY that!”
“Hey, anything for a good pun.”
Such a rebel.
(Oh, and, I can’t take its picture because it went off with another three-year-old today during his family’s farewell party as they move away. Someday those kids will all have a grand reunion and compare finger puppets.)
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