Folkmanis’ Worm in Apple Puppet

One of the more unusual items to cross my desk from Folkmanis is their Worm in Apple Puppet. It’s a nice, big apple — not shiny, since it’s made of plush, but it is very appealing — unless you count the small green worm peeping out of a hole in the side.

As noted, it’s covered with a soft plushy material, including the stem and a single leaf. Because of the seams running down the sides, it could almost be taken for a small pumpkin, but on inspection, it’s definitely an apple. It took me a couple of seconds to find the hole in the bottom, which is there so you can insert your finger to activate the worm, which is a perfectly charming little creature: green, and also plushy, it has a sort of surprised look on its face, although the big grin sort of gives the game away. The black topknot just adds to the charm.

As usual, there is a nice little story on the attached tag, about Henry and his third-grade teacher, Ms. Pomeroy, whom Henry is convinced in the coolest teacher ever — she teaches multiplication with, as the narrator puts in, “an ever-expanding colony of mice”. Henry’s atttitude is only reinforced by her reaction to the worm, which is not what you might expect.

This is one of Folkmanis’ line of finger puppets, as you might have guessed. Although it’s a bit of an effort to get my finger into it, smaller fingers would probably be a better fit — say, if your fingers are about third-grade size?

I don’t know if this is an apple you’d want to bring for your teacher — unless your teacher is as cool as Ms. Pomeroy.

(Folkmanis Puppets, 2018)

About Robert Tilendis

Robert M. Tilendis lives a deceptively quiet life. He has made money as a dishwasher, errand boy, legal librarian, arts administrator, shipping expert, free-lance writer and editor, and probably a few other things he’s tried very hard to forget about. He has also been a student of history, art, theater, psychology, ceramics, and dance. Through it all, he has been an artist and poet, just to provide a little stability in his life. Along about January of every year, he wonders why he still lives someplace as mundane as Chicago; it must be that he likes it there.

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