I thought it was a ball to something…….maybe it’s just too early in the morning for me. I have an old house with popcorn ceilings….somehow balloons always seem to make it into the living room and then, POP!!!
Just keep reminding your self that the balloon will come down somme day, or just go and get a bb gun.
Helium Balloons – ugh! Mylar helium balloons – even more UGH! Those things last for friggin’ ever! The problem at my house is that the ceilings aren’t so high – but just high enough the kids can’t reach the balloon strings . . . so they get a chair to climb on . . . and lean and lean and lean . . . and The Boy thinks it’s funny to turn on the fan and make the balloon float away while The Girl is trying to reach the string . . . but The Boy doesn’t factor in to the equation that The Girl’s hand is reaching up through the ceiling fan to get the balloon, which is now floating away. So the balloons at our house don’t actually cause the crying – it’s the ceiling fan.
“snip snip, then ssssss! Makes men and balloons nervous.”
The next time I am standing over the trash can with the balloon and scissors, I will think about this comment and have a good laugh. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Maybe my kids inherited my attention span, but after a few days of balloon mania, they are ready to move on to something else. So the “snip, snip” over the garbage can doesn’t have to be a super-covert operation.
(Unlike Operation Clean Up The Paper, which involves throwing away some of the hundreds of pieces of artwork they make every day. They inevitably find their masterpiece in the recycling and reclaim it from the grave with wails and cries of “Why did you throw this away?!?”)
I too WAS a snipper. I’d wait till my cherubs were tucked snuggly in bed asleep and do the dirty deed. Then one night as I (gleefully) snipped, lo and behold there stood my 2 year old to witness the heinous crime. She’s almost 8 now and still reminds me of the time I KILLED the balloon. I’ve decided I think I’m going to be paying for years of therapy all stemming back to this incident…
Hubby does it now, out in the garage behind closed doors.
The way the rubber ones lose their shine and simply bump along sadly and without purpose? And yet…how is it that they can stay aloft and just out of reach for so very long? One of life’s great mysteries.
We hate balloons, too. Well, at least I do. My kids love them. If we only have one they fight over it. If we have three they fight over them. Then one will accidentally get popped and there’s crying and whining. Pretty soon they all end up popped because we get so tired of listening to the fighting. Balloons are evil.
My daughter (whose favorite letter used to be W, when she was young enough to have a favorite letter and admit it to folks) used to get a free balloon whenever we went to Safeway. And a cookie. I don’t like balloons in my house, but anything to keep a baby happy in the grocery store, I say!
How much do I love your little poem? So, so, so much. I’m going to embroider it on something I think. My husband hates the sound of a balloon popping. Hates it. Makes me capture the balloons and kill them in secret.
I hate balloons, but they are a very necessary part of childhood…one with which I am willing to put up with for a whole week…then they mysteriously disappear into the “black hole” where all balloons go before the kids wake up on the eighth day.
Ever had to stop a ceiling fan and get the balloon out? Once I freed the ballon I ended its life on the spot. I looked at the boys who were protesting and said it’s either the ballon or them and suddenly their fondness for balloon was gone.