Much of our parental duties consist of making Freddy Frog and Henrietta Hippo * talk. (These are the adorable felt hand puppets my aunt made Lucy. Thanks so much, Aunt Barb. No really. Thank you. For making little creatures that need our hands and voices to "work." Couldn't you have just bought something with batteries?
Kidding! Totally kidding!)
Today, for some reason, though, Lucy didn't want Freddy and Henry to talk.
She wanted them to cough.
Okay, kid. Whatever.
The coughing actually turned out to be an easy gig, because I only have one cough, and didn't even attempt to differentiate between the two puppets. Plus, she just sat in my lap and cuddled the puppets, and looked in their throats, and said, "You sick, Freddy Frog?"
Of course, then she asked, "You throw up Freddy Frog? You throw up, Henry?"
I laughed (in a froggy/hippo-type voice) and then said, "No, I just have a little cold. I'm just coughing."
Then a minute later, she asked, "You in a wheelchair, Freddy Frog?"
From the other room, Dyami said, "Sheesh. This is starting to sound like polio."
I started laughing again (less froggy this time).
Dyami, still from the other room: "You know, Heather, there's nothing funny about polio."
Right. Except when your toddler is diagnosing it in hand puppets.
*What about Giraffy, their lovable sidekick? Well, let's just say that Giraffy suffered a um, little mishap, when he (she?) was put into the wash hidden in some sheets. Giraffy's spots, horns, and eyes were all glued on. The glue did not agree with the wash.
It's a little creepy seeing a spotless giraffe with glasses but no eyes.
However. We retrieved all the spots! And eyes! and will glue them on again. Very soon. Although doing so would mean that we then have three puppets instead of two.
Note: I have two hands.