Sometime last summer, I noticed a special sticker on one of our staple Dutch foods, the Sultana Fruit Biscuit.
I say "staple" because we eat Sultanas by the crate as an all-purpose snack, or even as breakfast in a pinch.
Sultanas are neither cookies nor crackers, and so the taste is a little hard to describe. My best attempt is that if a low-sodium saltine and a grape Fruit Roll-Up had a love child, it would be a Sultana.
On the down side, they're not all that flavorful, and they're dry enough that you need a nice cup of tea or a glass of water to really choke them down.
On the plus side, they more or less of fill the hole in our lives where energy bars used to be. And they're reasonably healthy, and portable, and available in quantity.
Also, they have the most brilliant tagline in the entire History of Advertising: Met de beste rozijne, or With the best raisins.
It really does take the breath away.
In any case, it was hard not to notice when the sticker started showing up on the front of every Sultana package.
Though I cringe to admit this, saving now for Mr. Jummy did not immediately make its way on to my to-do list.
At some point, however, I peeled the sticker off and read the text on the other side:
Wist je dat het een Mr. Jummy rugzak en handpop in één is!
Did you know that the Mr. Jummy is a backpack and hand puppet in one?!
Why no! I had no idea that the Mr. Jummy is a backpack and hand puppet in one!
This discovery had two major selling points:
First, it fit nicely with my theory that the Dutch are obsessed with puppets.
For the record, I don't have any evidence to back this theory up, other than my sense that every single child in the Netherlands owns a miniature puppet theater, as well as my vague discomfort at the number of puppet theater performances on offer on any given weekend in the Netherlands.
Secondly, it spoke to my fervent belief that the only thing more useful than a backpack is a backpack that is also a hand puppet.
Four Sultana proofs of purchase, €3.99, and six weeks later, I became the proud owner of my very own Mr. Jummy.
He and I have had lots of fun adventures ever since, but the highlight of his short existence has been coming along to my sister's wedding in upstate New York.
Because nothing says bridesmaid's accessory like a red backpack / hand puppet!
And while I've never had any shortage of methods for torturing my sister, having Mr. Jummy take part in her special day really brought things to a whole new level.
As it turns out, one of the main reasons that I survived 48 hours of wedding madness is that my sister's 5-year-old niece also really loved Mr. Jummy.
And so the three of us played and played and played. And then we played some more.
Most of the time, this involved him finding potentially delicious items (think bark, rocks, flowers, or caterpillars) and then deciding whether to eat them or spit them out.
Other times (as might be expected), the play involved Mr. Jummy visiting the dentist.
But sometimes, too much eating and too much dentist made Mr. Jummy tired, and he needed to take a nap.
I'm sorry to say that between my favorite black Smartwool shirt and the flower petals in Mr. Jummy's mouth, the effect of this particular nap was downright...sepulchral.
A few days after the wedding, we went out for a cup of coffee with my sister's new mother-in-law.
I got more than a little nervous when she leaned over to me and said in a low voice, "I need to talk to you about your little friend."
My low-level panic subsided when she revealed her question, which was whether I could buy another Mr. Jummy for the niece in question and send him to the U.S. for Christmas.
As I mentioned, we eat Sultanas by the crate, and thankfully, Sultana's marketing efforts continued to soldier on, so four more proofs of purchase, €3.99, and six weeks later, we marked the arrival of Mr. Jummy the Second.
But as everyone knows, international immigration is kind of a big deal.
Combination backpack / hand puppet or not, Mr. Jummy needed papers.
Fortunately, this was nothing an inkjet printer and a glue gun couldn't handle.
And so yesterday, with his valid passport stowed gently in the backpack half of his existence, Mr. Jummy and his little suitcase full of Sultanas started the long and cramped journey to upstate New York.
