Emalyn studied her acorn and muttered "Adhero" under her breath. She then dropped the acorn into a little pile of orange glitter she had made on the table. There. The acorn now had orange hair. And green eyes. A perfect Irishman.
Emalyn smirked and looked around. How in the world was she supposed to make this acorn into a puppet? It was an acorn. It didn't have arms. It didn't have a flap to fit your hand through, to make it look like it was talking. She found herself studying others' "puppets" and then looking down at her own, head first in a pile of glitter.