The Puppet Show

On our daughter's sixth birthday (many years ago now) we decided to do something different for her party. As she had a few hand puppets at the time, we thought it would be fun to put on a puppet show. We all had a great time making a Punch and Judy style box from cardboard and her Dad enthusiastically volunteered to be the 'puppeteer'. To add to it, we also made the party fancy dress.

When the day arrived, our daughter, dressed as a cat, opened the door to 3 ninja turtles, a ballerina, a vampire, a fairy, another cat and lastly a very convincing looking cowboy equipped with Sheriffs badge, stetson, holster and shiny gun with firing paper blanks.

The party got off to a great start, and when they'd finished playing musical statues and disappeared with some new toys into the garden, Dad squeezed himself into the box with bunny, fox, yellow bird, badger, Mr. Beaver and a bag of boiled sweets to throw to the children for the Grand Finale. When he was completely ready, I called them in. 

Their faces lit up at the red and white crepe covered box and they all sat in a row, cross-legged, like little angels about 2 feet away. Dad began and was doing a fantastic job, quick puppet changes, different voices, the lot. It was all going just brilliantly ... until ... the convincing cowboy (whom I think may have had a shorter than average attention span) decided to use the animals as target practise with his gun. And as he grew more and more rowdy, you could actually feel the mood of the room change.

Well, it wasn't long before he'd mustered up his own full blown posse.

At this point, no-one was listening to the fox, who had lost the rather endearing squeaky voice he'd begun with, and was now shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard over the 'angels' who were rapidly displaying early signs of mob mentality. And from my viewing point in the kitchen, I could hear one of the ninja turtles agreeing with the cowboy to 'pull the box down'. 

This was when it turned nasty.

Like a Disney scene gone wrong, they all advanced toward the box as one.

Dad, who had been really looking forward to this (bless him, and had practised and practised his script) started tossing out the Grand Finale sweets in an attempt to placate the ensuing mass, but to no avail, and as they gained momentum ... he LOST IT!

He hurled all the sweets out the box via Mr. Beaver in a final and desperate bid to stop them, but it was too late.

I watched, mouth agape as they 'tore' the box apart ... leaving Dad frantic, surrounded by animals, fox limp on one hand and Mr. Beaver on the other still clutching a fist full of sweets.

I quickly took charge, telling the little darlings that the party bags were in the kitchen, and as if by magic they returned to their angelic former selves and skipped from the room full of smiles ... leaving behind what I can only describe as a shell of a man, staring wild eyed on his knees in the middle of the room surrounded by torn up cardboard, puppets and boiled sweets!

Whenever we think of that day we can't help but laugh, but without fail, Dad always finishes with a frustrated look in his eye and ... it would've been fine if you hadn't invited that bloody cowboy!