Chapter Twelve
One Week Later
November 28, 1968
Jim Henson abandoned the familiar old dirt road and carefully picked his way through the marsh grasses. He was about halfway through when a young frog hopped onto his head from a tree.
“Hi Mr. Henson!” she said.
Jim chuckled, lifted the small frog off his head, set her on the ground, and squatted down beside her. “Hey,” he said, “How are you?”
She frowned. “You don’t remember my name,” she said.
Him smiled. “Well, there’s too many of you to keep track of for someone who doesn’t live here,” he said.
She brushed it aside with a resurgence of enthusiasm. “Are you gonna make Uncle Kermit be happy again?” she asked hopefully.
“Well I’m going to try,” Jim said. “Could you tell me where he is?”
“He’s on his log,” the young frog said. “I’ll go get him!” She bolted off. Jim followed her to the edge of the pond and watched as she bounded over lily pads. “UNCLE KERMIT! UNCLE KERMIT!”
Kermit lifted his head as she reached his log. “Yes Nancy?” he said dully.
“Mr. Henson’s here!” she said excitedly.
Kermit looked up to where Jim was standing, stood up, and slowly hopped over to his visitor. “Hey Jim,” he said.
“Hi Kermit,” Jim said. “How are you?”
Kermit shrugged. “Okay I guess,” he said. “You?”
“I’m all right,” Jim said. “But I’d like to talk to you about this offer we’ve got…” Kermit sighed. Jim put his hand on his back. “Let’s talk about it,” he said gently. They started to slowly walk around the pond together. “I know you’ve had some tough times,” Jim said. “But I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
Kermit nodded vaguely. “So what is it?” he asked. He didn’t seem to be looking at Jim.
“It’s an educational children’s show,” Jim said. “There’s a woman named Joan Ganz Cooney in charge of it. She did a study and decided there’s not enough children’s programming.”
“What’s it called?” Kermit asked.
“It doesn’t have a name yet,” Jim said.
“Children’s show, huh?” Kermit said. “I thought we were aiming for adults.”
“We still can,” Jim said. “But I think kids are a lot more intelligent than people think. Besides… it’s a show. Always something to do.”
Kermit shrugged. “How’d you find out about this, anyways?” he asked.
“They came to me,” Jim said. “They really want us, Kermit. They asked for you, specifically.”
“They did?” Kermit asked.
Jim nodded. “I think it’s a good idea. You’d enjoy it. Besides-“ he smiled and waved at a group of young frogs. “You’re a natural with kids.” He glanced at his friend and lowered his voice. “I think it might help you.”
Kermit looked at him hesitantly. “You think so, Jim?”
He nodded.
They walked on in silence. Kermit’s eyes grew more vacant. “How are your kids?” he asked after a while.
Jim smiled. “They’re doing all right,” he said. “They told me to say hello to you for them. I think they miss you.”
Kermit nodded. “Well… could you say hi to them for me? And to Jane?”
“Sure,” Jim said. “Does that mean you don’t want to be in the show?” He sounded disappointed.
Kermit stopped walking and stared very intently at the beads of water on a near by lily pad. He slowly lifted his gaze to Jim. “I’ll think about it,” he said.
Jim smiled. “Good,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Kermit nodded. “Tomorrow,” he repeated.
Jim nodded. “See ya, Kermit.”
“Bye, Jim,” Kermit said.
Jim waved and walked out of the swamp.
Kermit watched him go, then turned back to the pond. He looked up at the sky, deep in thought. He watched the clouds float by on the breeze, felt the light wind on his face.
“THEY’RE HATCHING!” someone shouted, “THEY’RE HATCHING!”
Kermit looked in the direction of the shouts. “The tadpoles,” he said quietly. “Jimmy’s… tadpoles…” He slowly started walking towards the eggs. Then he started walking a little faster, and then a little faster. His brothers and sisters naturally parted for him as he made his way through the crowd that was gathering around Jimmy and Leaper. He crouched at the edge of the pond, next to Maggie, who was next to their mother, who was next to Leaper, who was next to Jimmy. Kermit watched as the water slowly filled with tadpoles.
Leaper was naming them. “That’ll be Bob, and she’ll be Kim, and she’s Susan, and he’s Toby, and that’s Louis, and Jen, and Nadine, and Paul, and Missy, Howard, Julie, John, Phillip, Traci, Rebecca, Cara, Tyler, Will, Ellie, Sara, Jason, Elizabeth, Matt…”
And then the eggs stopped hatching. The crowd slowly diminished until only Jimmy, Leaper, and Kermit were left.
Kermit hesitantly dipped his hand into the water, away from the tadpoles but near some unhatched eggs. “Jimmy?” he said quietly. “Do you… Do you mind if I… sit here for a little while? Is… is that okay?”
Jimmy nodded. “Sure,” he said, and he and Leaper drifted into their own little world, adoring their little tadpoles.
Kermit was also in a world all his own, swirling his hand in the water. He gently fingered the unhatched eggs, deep in thought. Why hadn’t these eggs hatched? Why were there always eggs that didn’t hatch? He gently scooped a few of the eggs into his right hand and held them under the water. He slowly tilted his hand and let the eggs drop down to the bottom of the pond, where they would have eventually fallen anyways.
But one egg stayed in his hand, precariously balanced between his thumb and forefinger. He shifted it into his palm and let it rest there. His gaze drifted to an old rotting log, and his eyes grew vacant.
Then he felt a tiny shift in his right hand. He ignored it, but then he felt it again. He looked through the water at his hand and inspected it carefully. As he felt the tiny shift a third time, he could just barely see the egg rock forward and back, just a little bit. He examined the egg carefully and noticed a small sliver of a crack, no thicker than a strand of hair. The egg rocked once more, and the crack grew a little bit longer, a little bit wider. And the egg rocked again, and the crack grew a little more. Now he could see a tiny hint of green through the crack, throbbing against the confines of the egg, struggling to get out. And the egg rocked again, and again, and again, and again, and the crack got a little wider and longer, wider and longer, wider and longer, wider and longer.
Kermit leaned closer to the egg. “Come on,” he murmured under his breath. “Come on, you’re almost there. Come on…”
The egg wobbled in his hand. Then with a final sharp swift rock, a tiny slip of dark green burst out of the egg and tumbled into Kermit’s fingers, where he was content to rest for half a moment. Kermit could feel the beating of the tadpole’s tiny heart. Tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink, tink- and then the tadpole flicked his tail and swam back to the egg. He circled it, examining, exploring.
Kermit watched him, fascinated. “Jimmy, Leaper,” he said. He nodded towards his hand. “What’s his name?”
Leaper watched as her youngest son tried to push the empty egg out of his uncle’s hand. “Robin,” she said decisively. “His name is Robin.”
Kermit nodded vaguely. “Robin,” he repeated quietly.
Robin triumphantly knocked the egg out of Kermit’s hand, looked around, and wiggled towards his uncle’s fingers. He swam around and around each finger, exploring every inch. He swam over and under Kermit’s entire hand, and traced his fingers. Kermit could feel his nephew’s tail flicking against his hand. Robin weaved through Kermit’s fingers, and swam in circles around them. He looked at Kermit, and smiled a tiny tadpole smile.
And Kermit smiled back.
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