Therapy

So, this whole "Blue Tarantula" number needs some explaining.

Basically, Max is sitting in his bed, having been not-really-convinced by sister Ruby that he should take a nap (instead of pretend to be SuperBunny). Ruby offers to read him one book, and Max picks the story of the Blue Tarantula. Cue thunder. Ruby reads it, Max freaks out, and (through the magic of puppetry), said tarantula's head and legs appear above his bed. This series of events regularly elicits one of two reactions: children either laugh with devious glee at Max's torments, or they curl up into balls and start crying. Or some variation therein. Anyway, this is the story of the latter.

We performed two awesome shows in New London, CT, at the Garde Arts Center. Here's what our set looked like on the stage:



And here's the theater:



Restored 1926 Morrocan-style movie theater. Cool, huh?

Anyway, the show was sponsored by Bob's Discount Furniture (thanks!) and, as a final wish, the sponsor representative requested that the cast come say hi to her two 3 year-olds. Our first time out "hangin' with the kids." So to speak. So, we head out, most people in street clothes and bunny ears, me in my Alien Green Gorilla suit. One of the munchkins is thrilled to be playing tag with Max-eared Ben, but the other seems to be terrified in the corner. Remembering my zoo training, I coax her out of her shell and get her to at least say hi and give me a high five. After a short while, we decide it's time for our lunch break (which had been substantially "invaded" by this time, although the venue did supply us with bagels between shows). I promised to meet up with people at an Indian restaurant, changed and headed out the door. Only to hear the mother once again reassuring the quiet youngin', "the Blue Tarantula was only a puppet, don't worry."

This was the typical reaction to a lot of our zoo friends, and one I have learned to resolve. So I decided to play "therapist" and desensitize this child.

I brought out the tarantula head to the waiting mother and daughter. The child winced. I petted its blue-and-black head fringe. The child laughed. She poked its eyes. The tarantula turned its head. The child recoiled. The tarantula recoiled. The child laughed.

I think you can see where this is going.

After a few minutes, with a good number of them spent by said child trying to find the mouth (what it is with kids, puppets and mouths, I do not know!), the kid seemed OK. In fact, she laughed at the twitchy tarantula movements. It was time for the head to "go take a nap" (and for me to eat!), so I bid farewell and replaced the head. And, as I was walking out of the theater, I heard the child giggle, and then gasp and cry:

"What about the legs?!"

There's a reason they keep me on the stage.

Kid quote of the day: When Max's toys sang to the audience "If you stick your fingers in your ears / (demonstrate) / You can sing along for years and years," a little girl in the front row stuck her fingers in her ears. And so did her dad.

Call tomorrow: 7am, Manhattan garage near Columbia.