NOTE TO READER: If you are like most readers of this blog, and find my finger puppets strange or annoying, and you prefer content about our farm, skip to the bottom. There’s a cute video of the chickens. If you are new to this blog, or your name is Alison (my friend who really likes the puppets), keep reading.
I first hatched the idea of finger puppet children four years ago. We’d been up north with the kids for a vacation, and on the last day, during a family photo, we had a big fat ugly argument. When we returned home, I saw a friend post a pic of a finger puppet she had knitted for her grandchild and I thought, “Wouldn’t it be fun to get some new kids.”
And so I did. Using photos, my friend knitted a likeness of each family member. She had a little trouble with the second son’s dreadlocks (so did I!) but overall, the finger puppets turned out much better than I expected — so compliant and flexible! No arguments during family photos. No coming unraveled when I spurted unfortunate boomerisms.
It was weird. I am perfectly aware.
An acquaintance told me I had too much time on my hands. I vowed not to have coffee with her again. But she was right and her comment made me stop and think. What was I doing?
I was playing make believe, pretending I was in control. Those finger puppets were there for me, by which I mean, they accepted their dependence on me. It’s not like they needed me to live their lives, but they needed me to live their lives.
The kids joined in the silliness, too, which I wasn’t expecting. They took the finger puppets along on their journeys, and sent me pics. (Search the hashtag #knittedtogetherforever on Instagram if you want to see where they’ve been.) This human-to-puppet fraternizing led to a surreal flipflop of parental worry. I thought for sure one of them would lose a puppet.( In actuality, I’m the irresponsible mother who left them stranded on the Monorail in Disney World.)
I haven’t needed my little clutch of finger puppets in a while. I have adjusted to my role as advisory board parent. Our family has worked hard to understand and respect each other better.
But when this pandemic hit, I regressed. I found myself unpacking my little knitted babies and putting them back in the coop. I want them here with me at this lovely farm. I want to feed them warmed zinc milk in mugs that they made me in fourth grade. I want to arrange them in a row on my sofa and watch Contagion. And when they're asleep, I want to wipe down their phones, disinfect their beards, and gently tape socks over their hands.
Maybe you are anxious too about your adult kids. They may be smart but what do they really know about these extraordinary times. Do they know how to disinfect surfaces? Do they know that mixing ammonia and bleach can be lethal? What about their neighbor who keeps knocking on their apartment door? Are they practicing saying “I think you should leave now” in the mirror?
If you feel yourself regressing, wishing for more parental control than what our rigid society deems "appropriate,” for grown children, I suggest you get kids like mine. A pair of size one knitting needles, a few balls of yarn, an Etsy tutorial, and you too can DIY some new dependents. Plus, another often overlooked advantage of yarn kids is their lack of intestinal system. Your limited t.p. is safe.
I don’t know if the virus is coming, but I feel so much better! And so can you! What are you waiting for — free time?
Most of the family, gathered together at the farm in the glass house, enjoying the sunset out the window.
Our second son, back from Asia, is quarantined for two weeks in the building we call “Smokey’s Hideaway.” He’s fine, don’t worry!