Snug as a Bug in a Rug in My Own Little Cookie Carton

Lately, I've been thinking about Twiddlebugs.

Yes, it's true.  I haven't watched Sesame Street since I was eight or so, but I've been thinking about a set of its characters.  This is why.

My mom bought us the complete set of Sesame Street books when we were kids.  The first book I recall reading, all by myself, was the story of the little red hen.  As played by Bert.  And all of the unhelpful people played by other characters.  That particular story was my favorite, and my older sister insisted once that couldn't have been the first book I actually read on my own because I had the story memorized.

Anyway, back to Twiddlebugs.  My older sister had a favorite as well: The Twiddlebugs' Dream House.  It told the story of the four Twiddlebugs moving from their little cookie carton to a dream house indoors.  Only the dream house turned out to be a doll house, and the poor Twiddlebugs would leave for the day only to return home and find that everything had moved.

In the end, the Twiddlebugs return to their original home.  And as they always were before, they are "snug as a bug in a rug in our own little cookie carton."  (Incidentally, and this has nothing at all to do with my point, my 3-year-old nephew loves this story.  He's obviously his mother's child.  And my mom can recite the whole thing to him without the book.  She read it to us that much.)

I bet you're still wondering why I've been thinking about Twiddlebugs, and about this story specifically.

Sometimes I wonder if I don't have a case of what I've termed Twiddlebug syndrome.  The Twiddlebugs saw something they perceived as better than what they had, only to discover it was too good to be true.  In the end, they realized they'd rather stick with the familiar and the comfortable.

I'm not saying the Twiddlebug story makes me think that it's unwise to ever go outside a comfort zone.  Far from it, actually.  The Twiddlebugs had to leave what they knew in order to discover that what they knew was what they actually loved and wanted.  Does that make sense?

Right now, I'm waiting on three more letters from graduate schools.  And I hope I'll be faced with a decision about where to go.  (I hope at least two of them think I'm smart enough for their programs.)  At the moment, my mom wants me to stay in my own little cookie carton (Utah) for reasons she admits are mostly selfish.  

I, on the other hand, want to experience the dream house if and when I get the chance.  That way, I can begin to determine whether I want to keep exploring or whether I want to return to what I will then know is home--to be snug as a bug in a rug in my own little cookie carton.