Puppeteering. And Lambie(s).

Puppets are sort of a big deal in our home.  I have always had an out-of-bounds admiration for Jim Henson and all of his creations.  [If I were any sort of celebrity, I would push my agent to get me on Sesame Street with either Grover, Cookie Monster, or Bert (all clear manifestations of my personality traits).]  We head to Brookline a few times a year to see shows at the Puppet Showplace Theater, and I made sure Rudy and I visited Marley's kindergarten to see the Gerwick Puppets when they performed over the winter.  And then there's the way that Todd and I used our infants as puppets, and in particular, Rudy as entertainment for her big sister.

As a kid, I had a Cabbage Patch doll named Kimmie. (Actually, she was christened by Xavier Roberts as Marleen Kimmie: Marleeeeeen!  And I realized the similarity only recently when I was daydreaming about Marley's name this spring.)  I used to make Kimmie talk, a lot.  I used this weird voice that I can't even vaguely remember anymore.  But something about the way that any one of Rudy's Lambies holds conversations with her or anyone else gives me a fuzzy flash of auditory memory.  And she'll get caught up in the movements and shenanigans of her Lambies, too.  Their movements are jerky, they get flustered, and they are hilarious, especially in her eyes.  I love that all the Lambies are, simultaneously, extensions of Rudy and her thoughts and (because of her charisma and commitment and especially, laughter) cheeky little actual sheep that Rudy invited over to play.