Here is something you might not know about me, I have a horrifying phobia of dogs...and balloons. Balloons? Why balloons? They are so pretty and shiny and plastic. This is why. When I was young my brother would torture me . The day after a party he would grab a pin and say "Autumn, I'm going to pop this balloon." I watched in horror as he slowly moved the pin closer and closer to the balloon, my heart racing with every nearing inch. My face slowly contorting into one of abject terror. He would smile wildly while watching the pain on my face. Then when the pin was a centimeter away from the balloon and my heart almost bursting from the "pop" anticipation, I would cover my ears, run screaming from the room and hide in the coat closet, behind the couch, or simply run outside and down the street. I am not sure if he ever popped a balloon or not.
I now have a daughter that believes a party is not a party until there are balloons. I am fine with this. I have slightly matured and don't have a problem with balloons so long as they are in no danger of popping. Sean purchased himself a couple of colorful latex balloons and a mylar froggy balloon for his upcoming birthday party. (Sean, I promise to never make you buy balloons for your own party ever again...unless we have a new baby.) Gracie fell in love with the froggy balloon. I quickly threw the un-popped latex balloons away, but left the mylar one to bounce around our living room for a week or so. One night, I decided I'd had it with the balloon. I waited until no one was around, snuck into garage and dumped it. It's important to note that this balloon had a tiny weight on it and was fully intact. I wasn't going to pop it. There, the deed was done. The next morning Gracie moaned and complained a little, but I quickly distracted her by turning on the TV.
This morning we all woke up to the sound of the garbage truck lumbering down our street. This is terribly exciting for everyone except me. I rested in bed while Gracie frantic with excitement had Sean lift her up to see the truck out our window, their faces rife with the excitement that only a garbage truck can bring. Sean discussed how cool it was, Gracie's eyes were as wide as the garbage can lids.
"Hey Autumn," said Sean, the smile on his face now totally gone.
"What."
"My balloon! My balloon!" wailed Gracie.
Apparently that stupid balloon floated to the top of the garbage truck and was sailing along the top of it. Dang it. I have now promised to buy Gracie half a million new balloons next time we go to the grocery store.
I don't know what's funnier, this story, Sean having to buy his own balloons, or you still having to throw balloons away in their entirety (helium and all) because you're too scared to pop them.
ReplyDeleteI actually said "oh no!" out loud when I read that story. Poor Autumn, poor Gracie...The poor balloon!!!
ReplyDeleteThat is so funny, but I hate hearing balloons get popped too. Too bad you now have to buy some more.
ReplyDeletei agree with jazzy! thats hilarious! gracuie and joseph and river are three peas in a pod!
ReplyDeleteI did not know that about you! I also hate popping balloons, but not to that extent. I do agree it is awful though... And I did always dread my friends birthday parties, in case there would be a game where popping a balloon would be invovled. Oh yikes.
ReplyDeleteI never pop balloons. I let the air out carefully by making a slit in the part of the balloon closest to the knot. Sometimes it takes some work to actually get all the air out, but it works without a single scary noise. :D
ReplyDeleteUmm...Jen, that is a great idea, but you see, that would take effort and time. Two things I'm currently not into. :)
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