Twisty Balloons

I was faced with an interesting parenting dilemma tonight. Tonight was Anthony's work family picnic. It was a wonderful evening. We had hamburgers, hot dogs, salads, chips, games for the kids, door prizes (side story - Anthony won a much needed alarm clock! - his old one he's probably been using . . . well, forever - he's quite attached to it, however half of the little digital red lines that make up the numbers don't show up - and really, he's the only one who can read it. I was thrilled when he won it! However, appartently Anthony isn't quite ready to give up his old clock - because right now the fancy projection clock is sitting next to his tried and true, although unreadable alarm clock. Oh well. Yay for redundancy :))

Anyway - it was a very fun evening, but the highlight, at least for the kids, was the Twisty Balloon man named . . . I think his nametag said 'Bozzo: Not a Quitter' - I'm not making that up. 'Bozzo: Not a quitter' was amazing. He stood there by the picnic tables ALL NIGHT twisting away for an unending line of kids. His hands would fly, twisting and turning, and squishing, and bending - and suddenly there would be these masterpieces made of balloon. He could even blow up balloons - by mouth - 3 at a time! No kidding. It was cool to watch. Well Allison patiently stood in line for probably 15 minutes, watching this, before her turn came. She asked for a butterfly and 'Bozzo: Not a Quitter' proceeded to create a beautiful pink and purple butterfly hat for her complete with black antennas (to which Allison said later - 'Look - this butterfly has antennas just like Dad's antennas'. A coworker of Anthony's then teased - 'except that the butterfly's antennas work seamlessly!')

So 'Bozzo: Not a Quitter' handed Allison an enormous, beautiful, pink and purple butterfly hat. Allison, gingerly held the creation and came back over to our picnic table to show Anthony and I. The first thing she said to me, with reverence in her voice, was 'Mom, I want to keep this FOREVER!' Oh no, I think. Do I try to explain to her the fleeting nature of balloons and that the butterfly will probably pop later on tonight, or do I say nothing and deal with the trauma that is sure to come later? I decide to try the former, hoping to innoculate her for the inevitable dissappointment to come.

I tell her, 'Allison, ballons don't last forever. They eventually pop or lose their air - but you can play with it and enjoy it now.' She initally protested. 'But Mom I'll be very careful - and you be careful too. Here, you hold it and stay right here by the tables and don't move. We'll be very careful.' She goes off to play - but shortly thereafter comes back for the hat. I put it on her head and she runs off to play again. She runs around the park in circles saying 'I'm flying! I'm flying! I'm a butterfly and I'm flying!' Then she'd sit on the park bench and watch the wings flutter in the breeze. 'The wings are really flying, Mom!' And then she'd take the hat off and look at it thoughtfully and ask, 'Mom - can balloons really make us fly?' We then have a discussion about the movie Up and real hot air balloons - and then she's off to play once more.

Well sure enough. Tragedy struck. And the inevitable screams came and tears flowed. The preparation I tried to give her for this inevitability clearly had no effect. In fact - her response was even worse than I expected. We left and the screams and sobs of despair filled our car for a good portion of the ride home. She could not get control. I tried to think what I could have done? Would it have been better for her never to have had the balloon? I sure knew that this balloon situation would end in disappointment . . . however I guess, even knowing the outcome, I wouldn't have done anything different. We were reminded that some joys are fleeting, and that's OK.