I needed to log some time on my work's database, and well, facebook has just MISSED me. So I loaded E into the car, we ate chicken nuggets and waffle fries, and then he headed off into the play area while I got some "work" done. He had a blast, and played hard for a solid hour...so hard in fact that little beads of sweat formed on his little forehead. On the way out, the cashier stopped him and offered him his choice of a blue balloon or an orange one. He chose the blue one.
As we walked outside I told him to hold onto his balloon tightly so it wouldn't fly away. He agreed. Ok. Good plan. I opened the car door, and while he climbed into the car, I put my laptop back in my bag, completely oblivious to the trauma that was unfolding. Apparently E was oblivious as well, because when he got situated in his seat he looked at me and said, "Will you hand me my balloon now?"
Of course, I, having never actually had a hand on the balloon, looked at him, then into the car, and then....up into the sky....where there was a blue balloon frolicking farther and farther away from its little "shree year old." Oops. There I go again, being so highly competitive for "Mom of the Year."
INSERT SECOND STORY HERE
Ok, last year I blogged about my mom's dog, Bo. Bo was old and sick, and eventually had to be put down. E loved that dog. So my mom, knowing that the inevitable was fast approaching, began to prepare E by saying, "Bo is old and sick." And then when Bo died, Mom said, "Bo was old and sick, and he died." She tried to keep it simple. But then Ex picked E up one day, and when E said, "Daddy, Bo is old and sick and he died," Ex added to it by saying, "Yes, he's up in the sky in Heaven." AND THEN, E's other grandmother heard about Bo being "old and sick and he died and he's up in Heaven" and she added "with Jesus." Ok...you with me? So all year long E has talked about Bo. And whenever you ask him where Bo is, he ALWAYS says, "Up in the sky with Jesus."
OK...BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING....
We're in the parking lot of Chick Fil A and the rebel balloon has just escaped, virtually unnoticed, until E requests that I hand it to him. I realized what had just happened, and the following conversation took place....
Me: Oh baby, I'm sorry. Your balloon flew away!
E: (confused) where did it go?
Me: It's up in the sky.
E: (complete dismay) WITH BO AND JESUS?!?!?!?!?!
Me: (thinking that maybe life just threw me a bone here...) Yes...with Bo and Jesus. They will be glad to have a balloon.
E: (again with the dismay) THAT DOES NOT MAKE ME HAPPY!
Me: (oh.) Oh. I'm sorry. We'll get you another balloon next time.
E: (alligator tears and wailing) BUT I DIDN'T WANT BO AND JESUS TO PLAY WITH MY BALLOON!
Me: I'm sorry.
****five minutes down the road****
E: Mama, next time I want an orange balloon.
Me: Ok. I think we can do that.
E: And Bo and Jesus can't play with it!
Me: Fair enough.
****The next morning****
Me: Good morning! How are you?
E: I'm mad that Bo and Jesus have my balloon. They should say they are sorry. And next time I'm going to get an orange one...and they CAN'T HAVE IT!
Me: Ummm.....Ok. (My son is STILL mad at the dead dog and the Christ for "taking" his toy.)
And THAT is why the mom should ALWAYS HOLD THE BALLOON.