Last night I took the boys to a church picnic. There was a bounce house so, I figured I wouldn’t see them at all for the duration of the event. I was mostly right.
After everyone had eaten, I got to see a Biblical re-enactment as the children made a mass exodus from the bounce house. Was there a bee in the bounce house? Where are they all going? And then I saw him.
A teenaged boy was dragging a laundry basket full of water balloons out on to the lawn for a game of balloon toss. The twins were ecstatic. Aili was confused, but willing to participate.
We all lined up for the toss. I decided to be Aili’s partner because we all knew she was going to just drop the balloon at her feet and be “out” on the first turn anyway. The twins were paired up as well. I was a little worried because they were standing next to me and they are a little unpredictable.
“Ready, set, GO!” yelled the teenager.
Aili and Robert were the first to throw balloons. It only took a split second for them to look at me and make an non-verbal agreement.
They both threw their balloons. AT ME.
Fortunately, my children have inherited my husband’s aversion to sport so, they both missed me by a mile. But, I saw the intention. After the game was over, the excess balloons were fair game for throwing.
A nice mother would just laugh it off and let the kids be kids.
I am not nice.
And it was ON.
We were chucking those balloons at each other like grenades. They were delighted to get soaking wet and I was delighted that they still can’t throw so I can mostly dodge their balloons.
There is nothing like a church picnic to teach you the wholesome lesson that your mother will pelt you with water balloons if given half a chance. Amen.