You know I love it… I’m a little like this little kid I once met who, when it was time for bed began begging and pleading and crying for his father to paint on his (the father’s) thumb and forefinger a mouth, then eyes on on the side of the middle finger, effectively creating a very literal hand puppet. The more the father gently refused, telling his son that this wasn’t really a good idea, the more the son insisted. I was baffled and a little irritated at the father for refusing what seemed to be a simple request.
The more he refused, the more distraught the child became. Finally he gave in and created the talking hand. The kid was all wound up wanting to see it and when he did, he totally freaked out, terrified of the very thing he had wanted. It was frankly bizarre.