So I bought 6 balloons. What an absurd idea. They were supposed to be used for my bio pics for the blog. I won't even get into what purpose balloons would serve because
A. My husband totally wasn't into being a photographer and it didn't come out as planned. And...
B. I may still try it later with a different photographer than mentioned in reason A.
So when we finished with the pictures, I took my poor attitude (told my hubby he just doesn't get my art!) grabbed thing one and thing two and headed to the market for wine and pizza.
Now here's where things went left. The first mistake I made was buying balloons. The second was telling Mino it was his job to hold them so I could see while driving. Mino, like his mother, takes his jobs waaaaay too seriously. Hence two minutes (probably less, I'm trying to be generous) into the drive I hear, "NEL YOU MAY NOOOOOT TOUCH THE BALLOONS! MOMMY TOLD MEEEE TO HOLD THE BALLOONS." Cut to me in the front seat telling myself they are three and five, three and five, threeeee and five. Patience. Do not take your "husband-sucked-at-pictures" attitude out on the small people. Fine.
We get to the market and what do the boys bring to the cart? Balloons you say? Two for you Glen coco!!!
So into the store we go. Me, Mino, Nelly, and six - no five, Nelly popped one- balloons. On-the-job Mino reminded Nelly that he, and only he, had been given the task of holding the balloons. Like a moth to a flame, Nelly was on the balloons in an instant.
So it turned into a fight.
"You may not, Nelly!"
"No, you may not!"
"YOU MAY NOTTTTTT!"
Did I mention they're very polite when they fight? Three and Five, Shanika. Threee and five.
Thats when the balloons got stuck in the hanging aisle number....
LOST IT. So I did too.
There we were, me in five inch heels, a white skirt, hair all done up, threatening to "go off," two screaming kids in a cart blaming one another, and six, no five, pink balloons stuck in the hanging sign of the wine aisle. Jesus, FIX IT!
Some kind tall stranger came by and released the balloons. And then I got to do the walk of shame. You know that "lady with the temper" walk when old ladies cut their eyes at you.
Nelly, Mino, and I and the six, nope, five, pink balloons, went to the register and then home. And that, my friends, is why there are going to be no more balloons.