Bad Rabbit

Thing 2 has invented a new friend. It’s a little simple homemade rabbit puppet she fell in love with at Mom’s but smuggled out of their house and now he rears his head here, on occasion. She insisted it went to bed with her the other night, and then it kind of took over. It was like she was channeling a surly, talkative, furry little character on her hand. Like that impressionist guy used to do when he painted up his fist and it said “saright” a lot. It often spoke in a kind of deep voice, and instead of calling me and Jeff “Mommy and Daddy” it called us “Stacy and Jeff.” And insisted on being called Rabbit, and that we say good night to it as well. Both Thing 1 and 2 had trouble going to sleep that night, and after I’d been up and down the stairs a couple of times, Jeff took over, and went upstairs and alternately rocked them both. I had threatened Rabbit that if he wasn’t quiet he’d have to go outside to sleep, but apparently my threats weren’t enough. When Jeff was rocking Thing 1, he reported that Rabbit piped up with quite a monologue about how he’d come to visit, and when Jeff asked him to take care of Thing 2 and help her go to sleep, Rabbit explained he had to get back to his family and sleep in his own bed. When Jeff suggested that Rabbit go now back to his own family, Rabbit was kind of stumped. But not stumped into silence, apparently. Jeff said Rabbit would go in and out of his deeper voice. It all sounded pretty hysterical to me and I’m kind of sorry I missed it.