Mylar Mayhem

Yesterday, I murdered a mylar balloon.

Let me back up:  about 2 weeks ago, my mom came to visit.  She runs the floral department at Ingles, so she always brings Rory and Liberty a fun mylar balloon for them to ooh and ahh over.  The customary balloon provides many hours of entertainment, especially when we clip it to the back of Liberty's diaper and let her chase it like a dog chases its tail.  That sounds mean.  It's really not - she loves it and laughs the whole time.

So yes, the balloon is much fun.  For about 2 days.  After that, it becomes a nuisance.  And of course, true to toddler behavior, any mention of "Maybe it's time to say bye bye to the balloon?" sends Rory writhing on the floor as though possessed by the spirit of balloon protectorship.

So I let it slide, and I always tell myself in a day or two, I'll quietly remove it from the house during nap time.  And then of course, I never do because hunting down a slightly wilted balloon is not really priority #1 when I get a few quiet moments to myself.

By day 4, I was starting my usual preparatory speech, "Rory, we've had enough of the balloon..." but when I was looking the other direction, she took the scissors out of my crochet bag and cut the string, laughing gleefully as it drifted high into the cathedral ceiling of our living room.  "Yay, Mommy!  Now the balloon can stay up high and watch us play!"

Days 5, 6, and 7 were okay, since the balloon stayed up in its lofty abode.  That is, until 2 am the morning of day 8, when it drifted down into the fan blades, prompting my startled, half asleep husband to venture into the living room in his underwear, brandishing a battery-operated alarm clock to see what was exploding in the other end of the house.  I was laughing too hard at the sight of my hero to think to ask him if he just threw it away already.

The balloon started doing weird things on day 9.  Like, all of a sudden, it would appear from around the corner of the kitchen, wafting lazily an inch off the ground as the current from the ceiling fan would catch it. 

The balloon hid behind the couch for day 10 and 11.

That brings us to yesterday.  Rory discovered it behind the couch and clutched it to her chest like a long lost friend.  "I found you!  I fooooound YOU!  Hi balloon!  I missed you.  Let's play."  She then proceeded to beat the ever loving tar out of this sad, deflated balloon.  Shouting over the noise, I cautioned, "RORY!  STOP THAT!  IT'S LOUD AND SISSY IS NAPPING!"  I know, shouting during naptime has to be at least half as loud as balloon mangling, but my only defense is that I was tired and the sound of a mylar balloon getting mangled to death was possibly the most annoying thing I'd ever heard up to that point in my life.

To make a long 30 seconds very short, Rory did not heed my warnings, and in a fit of sleep deprived mommy delusion, I snatched the offending balloon out of her sweaty little palms,  walked calmly to the knife block in the kitchen, and unceremoniously ended Mr. Mylar's life with a steak knife.

Not surprisingly, Rory was fit to be tied.  I felt TERRIBLE.  I mean, it seemed perfectly logical in the moment that stabbing a balloon to death would "teach her a lesson."  Now of course as she collapsed on the kitchen floor in a puddle of tears, I couldn't imagine what exactly that lesson was.  I grabbed her up in a hug, said I was sorry, and asked her what would make her feel better.  She managed to squeak out through her sniffles, "I wanna call my Mandy."  (Mandy is what she calls my mom)  "Okay, yeah, that's a good idea!  Let's call Mandy and talk to her!"  Mandy always makes things better.  I thought I was home free. 

I dialed my mom's number, put the phone on speaker, and then went into the kitchen, leaving Rory sitting in her little chair with the phone.  I hear my mom pick up ("Hello?") and Rory start to talk ("Hey Mandy!  What you doing?")  The rest of the conversation went something like this...

Mandy:  "Rory, are you having a good day?"
Rory:  "NO!  I not having a good day.  I'm so sad because I'm sad."
Mandy:  "Why are you sad?"
Rory:  *breaks down into sniffles again* "Because Mommy BROKED my balloon!  I was jus' in the living room an I was jus' playin' with it an' she said no no no an' she took it an' she go'ed into the kitchen an' she went poke poke poke on my balloon an' it brokeded!  Waaaaaaaah!  I need you bring me anudder balloon RIGHT AWAY!"
Mandy:  "Oh no, that's terrible!  Give the phone back to your mommy for a minute!"
Rory: *handing me the phone* "Mommy, I think you're in trouble for breakeding my balloon.   *skips away, happy about the promise of another balloon for another day*