Lesbian Dad

Big box puppeteer


Not talkin’ Wal-Mart.

Both these characters were named “Daisy,” by the way, and they had a lengthy dispute about which one was the real Daisy.

The day before this box was not a puppet theater, but the blessed vessel holding the girlie’s first actual mattress. Before that, she slept on a skimpy Ikea foam jobbie, which did the trick when she was about as light as the cat. But ever since she’s entered the weight range of our dear departed doggie (a lab mix mutt), something a little more substantial has been in order. We knew it was time to purchase an actual mattress when she began to pad into our room in the middle of the night and crawl into our bed, complaining of the lumps in her bed. (Mama’s theater co. is doing “Once Upon a Mattress” this winter, by the way, and not a moment too soon. )

At the mattress shop, the girlie was so elated she kissed the box. Several different times. She also kissed the mattress as we unfurled it onto her bedframe. Then she arranged all 30-40 of her stuffed animals all around its perimeter, a Maginot line of polyester and cotton.


Post Script: The girlie slept the whole night through, like a log. And so, thank the dieties, did we.

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