MOMMARAMA

Balloonatic

I wonder who decided that balloons were clever toys.

Clearly someone with no children. And most likely the same guy who invented non-water-soluble tattoos, permanent markers, and the Edsel.

In my studied opinion, the only thing balloons are good for is filling with water. Water balloons are excluded from the general balloon ban in our house, on account of they're cool. Plus they're necessary marital therapy tools, when snowballs aren't available.

In fact, I hear that that water-balloon-toss is slated to replace "shot put" in the summer Olympics, being a better marketing platform for beer, and all.

But regular old balloons, particularly the helium variety, are blatantly useless, at best. In fact, the only thing they're good for, is:

Causing arguments (see: toy)

Obstructing Mom's view through the rearview mirror, and occasionally, the windshield

Wrecking ceiling fans.

Causing coronaries, weeping, and urinary dysfunction when they pop (kids get upset, too.)

But apparently, balloon vendors have to eat, too. So they come up with really sneaky ways to side-swipe you.

One of the best tactics the "get you on the way out" ploy, usually at places with "-World" appended to their names. This is when you're tired, your resistance is lowest, and your mind is most apt to play little tricks on you, like considering the balloon as a bribery tool to get the heathens into the car quickly and without incident.

WARNING! THIS DOES NOT WORK! Because you forgot to factor in the argument about who gets to HOLD the balloon, and the various angles you'll need to experiment with, trying to get a toddler INTO the car, and buckled, while he's holding 7 cubic yards of mouse head.

A second ploy is the "reward for good behavior" ploy, where (usually at a restaurant) they actually GIVE you the balloon for free, because the owner's brother-in-law is a precariously employed latex salesman. In this case, the balloon is given under the guise that the kid(s) demonstrated some facsimile of decent manners during the span of patronage.

Since we know how rare this occurrence is, we have to assume that either their standards for manners are as low as their standards for waiting staff, or they're on the hook for said brother-in-law's "employee of the quarter" all-expense-paid trip to Duluth. Some of them have taken this problem to heart and have started serving shredded balloons as pasta. Which, frankly, I mind less.

Maybe the problem I have with balloons is that they remind me of so many other deceptively desirable things in life that suck you in and then leave you leave you talking like a cartoon duck.
Consider:

GETTING the balloon is more exciting, ounce for ounce, than HAVING it.

Once gotten, the balloon instantly becomes awkward and unwieldy, thus requiring more effort than you signed on for.

And after a remarkably short period, you can't wait till they grow old enough to move out.

Okay, well, maybe that's a bit obvious. But though I'll never again be in a "Balloon Free Zone," I strictly observe a "Reduced Balloon" policy. I'm no balloonatic.