The Puppet Show

Riley announced that there was to be a puppet show.  In the family room.  Under the coffee table.  With a handful of fish finger puppets.  Truth be told, if Dylan were home I would’ve busied myself with the laundry and suggested to Riley that Dylan would be better audience, but since Dylan’s wasn’t home, and since Riley did bravely tasted my Green Dream shake at Whole Foods (and didn’t spit it out), I felt I owed him at least few minutes of my time.

Editor’s note:  It’s not that I don’t adore my children, their creativity, and their entertainment.  It’s just that I’ve been overexposed.  And sometimes these shows end with karate moves, light saber fights, and undesirable conversations about poop.

I followed Riley into the family room where he carefully prepared himself and his puppets underneath the coffee table.   I sat crisscross applesauce in front of the “stage” and this is what followed:

Scene One

There was a little fishie swimming in the sea.

Then a shark came and bit the little fishie in the head.

Then a fishie came and bit the shark in the head.

Then another fishie came and bit the shark in the head.

Then another fishie came and bit the shark in the head.

Scene Two

There were three little fishies jumping in a bed.

Then a shark came in and bit them in the head.

Scene Three

There were three little fishies jumping in a bed.

Then a monkey came in and shot them in the head.

The end.

For the record, the escalation of violence at the end was as shocking to me as it probably (hopefully?) was to you.  That said, disturbing violent imagery aside, this kid can tell a story.  Watch out, Quentin Tarantino.