Mylar Murder

My son brought home one of the mylar balloons his teacher received for her birthday. He then tied it to some random toy and started using it like a punching bag…and then it floated up to the ceiling in our entryway.

Exciting, right?

Let’s add some details to that:

  1. The teacher’s birthday was in March.
  2. Doodicus’ ability to tie his own shoes is sub par, at best.
  3. The entryway ceiling is 18 feet high.

Unlike a latex balloon that loses its will to live within hours, this mylar balloon was in it for the long haul. I was warned by my friends on Facebook that it could take months for it to finally lose its oompf. But one of my friends threw out the words “sewing needle” and “nerf dart” and I was psyched!

"Ha ha! You can't get me!"
Warning: Do Not let your children see this!
Do you feel lucky, punk? Well, do ya?!
Ready? Aim! Fire!! (Lacking in the "Aim" department)
"I'd give you the finger...if I had any!"
Warning: Do not stand under a falling dart with a needle attached to it.

Nerf guns aren’t exactly accurate, did you know that? Wouldn’t want to depend on one out camping in the Rockies when a grizzly comes charging (because a Nerf Dart that was perfectly aimed would certainly take a charging bear out). I know I had several direct hits to the balloon, including one where the needle actually stuck in it long enough to weigh it down a couple of feet before it fell out. For whatever reason, I just expected that once I hit it, it would come right down, but it didn’t. Eventually I got bored and walked away (not before remembering to put away the needle first).

Some time later, I walked past the entryway to go into Aitch’s room and out of habit I looked up to the ceiling. No balloon. I spun around, expecting it behind me with a hypodermic needle aimed at my shoulder blades, and nothing. WTF? I looked back up again. Nope, my eyes were not deceiving me. I looked down again and finally noticed it. It had floated down and wedged itself between the loveseat the stair railing looking all tired and sad and I pouted on its faceless behalf. Awwww. Poor widdle bawwoon.

And then I did a happy dance! Victory is mine!!