Brynn's first word was Kitty.
Her next word was Balloon (although it actually comes out as "Boon!").
She loooves balloons. Loves to hold them. Loves to hug them. Loves to bite, kick, drag, punch, throw and body slam them.
Me? I'm not a fan. I hate balloons. I actually qualify as globophobic and yes, that is actually the correct term. I know it sounds stupid but I find balloons scary and stressful.
I'll just wait while you laugh it out.
Ok are you done? All out of your system? No?
Moving on. Brynn loves these horrible globes of death. We've had to dress her while she clutched her latest balloon. We've had to read to her, feed her, brush her teeth and bathe her while she held her balloon. I've had her smack me in the face with one repeatedly while I changed her diaper. (Strangely, she laughs just a little too hard while doing that...it is almost like she knows it freaks me out and she's enjoying it) She got one for her birthday and I was insanely happy when it disappeared...and by 'disappeared' I mean it no longer floated out of reach so I quietly cut it up one night when Brynn was sleeping. Yaay!
Unfortunately, when we came back from Thailand, my daughter had a brand new one, courtesy of her grandparents. Thanks, mom.
Since then, I've become convinced this particular balloon was possessed. One day while I was home sick, it was left floating in the kitchen and no one touched it after Brynn left for daycare. Later, I walked the length of the house, went up a flight of stairs, down the entire length of the house, up another flight of stairs and into our bedroom to have a nap. This is only important because when I woke up and rolled over I was literally face to face with Brynn's balloon. My first thought was that it was a good thing I woke up when I did because the damned thing was probably going to smother me in my sleep. The second was to wonder how the hell it followed me up there.
Sadly, this balloon also soon took a turn for the worse and is now a pile of limp Mylar. Yaay!
Whaaat? Oh please. Surely I'm not the only parent out there who secretly sabotages her child's most offensive possessions. I know for a fact that there are people out there that throw out their kid's favorite stuff when it gets too dirty, holey, small or smelly so if I maybe (and I'm not admitting to anything here, folks) happened to accidentally poke Brynn's possessed balloon with my tweezers hard enough to cause a very small hole then what can be done? Yes, Brynn was sad but it was on its last legs anyway and she soon got over it.
Yesterday, we went to Safeway to get a few groceries after picking Brynn up from daycare. It was like somebody took every bloody balloon in creation, brought them to the grocery store, and then strategically placed them everywhere a young child might look. She nearly lost her mind. Just picture a toddler spinning and pointing in every direction while chanting "BOON!" at the top of her lungs and grinning like a maniac and you have an idea what it was like. Needless to say, we left with a brand spanking new Hello Kitty balloon and I'm back to only shopping at Superstore...and sleeping with one eye open.
Beware the Devil's Boon!