But Oh! The joy of
plastering your brothers in the face with cold water bombs! Hardly anything else could compare. Especially if they were caught by surprise
and could not immediately retaliate without making their own water bomb
arsenal. And so we spent the first weeks
of summer hoarding chore money and allowance in order to buy small bags of the
tiny balloons. Keeping the buckets,
water pistols and the number and location of balloons as state secrets. And of course carefully plotting the strategy
of water fights.
Until one day, everything changed. We were in mother’s bathroom filling water
balloons because it had the tiniest faucet.
We found a small foil packet by the sink. It seemed curious. So we opened it. Inside was a balloon! Not just any balloon; a wondrous stretchy
magnificent gigantic unbreakable water balloon!
We filled it so full of water it was the size of a large
watermelon! We placed our newfound
treasure in the bucket with all those teeny tiny colorful pain-in-the-neck
water balloons. And we hauled that
bucket up to the roof where we had determined was the optimal position to drop
water bombs on the enemy.
The “enemy” never knew what hit them. He led his troops under the porch and never
received such a soaking! We were hooked.
We needed more! Into my parents bathroom we dashed to rifle
through everything looking for more of the foil packaged balloons. And we filled every single one of them with
water. Then we hauled them up to the
roof.
Dad pulled up into the car port as we were hurling the last
batch of giant water missiles at my brother and his friends, who had abandoned hope
and had turned the hose on us. It was
all out war! He stared at us for a
minute, and then he just started yelling.
Kids scattered every which way. And
we slithered off the roof; a soaking mess of humility. We three sort of just slinked into the house
with Dad stomping in behind us after turning off the hose.
We waited in anxiously in our rooms all through dinner for
punishment to be handed down. Mother
came to our rooms after dinner and quietly told us why we could not use Trojans
for water balloons, EVER. And then Dad
visited and informed me that one day I would have a child probably a lot like
me. He said it with affection, and
pride. And then with what I think was a
lot of embarrassment, he added, he wanted me to remember this, because, he
said, “You will get yours”.
And that brings me to a Sunday night not so long ago when I
noticed my night table drawer standing open.
Now, I’m a normal woman, not a huge perv. I go to church every Sunday, and I’ve been
married a while. Bu no one opens that
drawer except me. So I checked the
contents and something was missing! I
asked the spousal unit, “Did you take a toy out of there to put batteries in it”? Nope.
OMG!!!!! I AM GETTING MINE RIGHT
NOW! “Self”, says I, “remain calm”. And then I freaked out and tore the house
apart. My daughter was in bed
asleep. No sense in waking her. Eventually, I found it in my daughter’s
church bag (of course). Cause that is
where you take a pocket rocket. To church! Bible: check.
Coloring book and crayons: check. Vibrator: you betcha!
The following morning, I asked her as casually as possible, “Did
you find something in my room, that maybe you wanted to ask me about”? And she said, “Oh mommy yes! It was the coolest. I showed it to all my friends in junior Sunday
School, and my teacher too! And the
teacher told me to just keep it in my bag”.
There is a cipher lock on my bedroom door now. And if anyone at church gives me a sidelong
glance, I’ll be happy to let them know they are eligible to get theirs too!
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