Over the last month, Poilly, Helena's lion puppet with the weird hair, has resumed a position of favour, attending daycare with her regularly and sharing her bed at night. Suddenly he is 3 years old. His mother is Kicia, a regular orange house cat (a toy) with a red bow; she is 5 years old now.
Whenever Helena picks up Poilly to take him anywhere — to daycare, shopping, for a walk — he cries for his mother, doesn't want to leave her, but Helena takes him anyway.
Over breakfast, Helena talks to me about Poilly. "Did you know his father's dead?" Umm, no, I didn't know.
Poilly's father went into the forest one day, and a witch lives there, with a pointy nose, and she took her broom and poked him with it, over and over, till he fell into the street and a car ran over him. And he died.