Puppets

My first memory was my four year old birthday party. We'd invited all of the kids in my nursery class to come over to my house and make puppets. There were a gazillion new brown paper bags, fifty-nine new glue bottle and glue sticks, and five huge tubs of foam shapes for the eyes, noses, and mouths. All of the supplies were laid out along a long table, and we were supposed to walk in a line next to the table, grab what we needed, and disperse to go somewhere and create a paper bag puppet. Now keep in mind that we were three and four year old kids, so of course the line was a mess. Kids were fussing over which glue bottle/stick worked best, and figuring out which shapes and colors they wanted. Then there were kids behind those kids, pushing and shoving and cutting line while complaining that the people in front of them were taking too long. But once they left the line the trouble didn't stop. Glue spread like a terrible and contagious disease. It got all over everyones hands and clothes and hair. Some kids used too much glue and ripped holes in their paper bags. There were quite a couple melt downs. And at cakes time, the unmentionable happened (though that doesn't mean I wont mention it).

Someone got icing on my puppet.

MY puppet. My ever resilient and strong paper bag puppet, brought down by a spoonful of icing lobbed from across the table. It was horrific. My mom tried her best to scrape it all off, but in the end my fallen warrior could not be salvaged. I was forced to let go of him and make a new one. Many tears were shed...

But I got over it.

I don't know why but for some reason, my early memories are very important to me. It's sometimes comforting to know that there's more to my life then right this minute. There was a before, and there will be an after. Even if I'm still stuck in the now.