amicus
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2003
- Posts
- 14,812
Another ‘Kid’ Funny; Bubbity & the Balloon
There are little stories all around us I think at times, we need only see when we look.
While at the pharmacy today, refilling meds, we got the two and a half year old little boy a balloon on a string that almost got away before we got back but we made it.
The family went off to their beach party and the little boy played with his balloon for a while, had lunch and went off for a nap. During his three hour nap time the balloon decreased in size by about half and didn’t float much anymore, but he played with it nonetheless, sitting on it, batting it about and finally putting it in a little stroller and rolling it all over the house.
Then he lost interest and found something else to play with as I was finishing up dishes and watching Black Hawk Down again, not one of my favorite movies, but anyway…went out to the patio to smoke and he followed me out with the stroller and then went back into the house. He came back a moment later almost in tears with a very sad look on his face carrying a completely deflated little orange balloon.
So I took it from him and attacked the tight double knot of ribbon that held the neck of the balloon closed. He watched, very intently as I struggled with my old arthritic fingers and nails to loosen the knot. It finally gave; I put the long ribbon on the glass topped patio table where I sat under a beach umbrella along with four other lawn chairs. The table rested on a large concrete slab just outside the dining room door. He often plays there as I smoke and drink coffee during the day. (No smoking in daughters house, sighs)
The neck of the balloon was stuck together somehow and it took another moment or so to loosen it wide enough to try to blow up the balloon again. I figured it was just a slow leak from a pinhole somewhere although he had pummeled it thoroughly earlier.
He started clapping and smiling as I blew the balloon larger and larger in front of him. I didn’t know if he had been teased with a balloon before, so when it was large enough, I turned it towards him and let the air gush into his face and hair. He looked a little startled for a moment then started laughing and jumping up and down. So I did it three or four more times and then blew it up and pulled the mouth of the balloon in that certain way to make funny sounds as the air squeaked out of the whistle like opening.
Again, he looked a little puzzled but was getting quite a kick out of the sound of his balloon.
So I did that a few times and then blew it up again, turned the big end towards him and let loose of the balloon. It shot right at him, bounced off and went up into the air and landed a few feet away on the concrete. He was really startled, to say the least and just stared at me and then the balloon until I urged him to go pick it up and bring in to me.
Just as he got close to the balloon, leaned over and reached a hand out, either a little gust of wind or some air left in the balloon, caused it to move, ever so slightly, but he saw it and quickly pulled his hand back away from the balloon.
Well, my daughter called me a ‘mean old man’, but I again urged him to pick up the balloon and bring it to me and so with some more words of encouragement, he finally reached out for it again.
I growled, trying to throw my voice, just as he was about to touch the balloon and that little boy jumped back, as much as little boys can jump, almost lost his balance and gave the balloon a real close look and then glanced back at me.
Now, I am laughing so hard tears are in my eyes as I urged him on to pick up the balloon and he circled around it pointing and shaking his head. Every time he would work up enough courage to reach out for it, I would growl and bark again and he would take his hand quickly away. This went on for several minutes and he would not touch that balloon, no matter how many times I urged him to.
Finally, and he did this all himself, he spied one of his mother’s garden gloves in a red clay flower pot on a small matching table under the dining room window. He picked up the glove, tried once to put it on, then walked over to the balloon and dropped the glove on top of it. This time I did not growl as he reached down and squished the glove down on the balloon to see if it was going to get him. Finally, but with the glove, not his fingers, he picked up the balloon and brought it to me.
I blew it up and let it loose several more times and although he was very cautious each time, he would pick the balloon up with the glove, hold it far away from him and bring it to me.
We tired of the game and I put the deflated balloon in a shirt pocket and we went back into the house.
Late that afternoon when the family returned from the beach, I told them all about our little adventure, pulled the balloon out of my pocket and inflated it again.
The same thing happened. He got all excited as the balloon flew wildly about the room, ran to it, but would not touch it with his bare hand, no matter who urged him on; he was not going to pick it up.
Finally he remembered the glove out on the patio, fetched it and picked up the balloon with the glove.
None of this is made up, not even enhanced and no poetic license involved. I can see in the writing of it that I did not do justice to the real humor of the event as it occurred, his expressions and body language were just priceless; I think you had to be there but it was funnier than all get out to me.
Amicus…
There are little stories all around us I think at times, we need only see when we look.
While at the pharmacy today, refilling meds, we got the two and a half year old little boy a balloon on a string that almost got away before we got back but we made it.
The family went off to their beach party and the little boy played with his balloon for a while, had lunch and went off for a nap. During his three hour nap time the balloon decreased in size by about half and didn’t float much anymore, but he played with it nonetheless, sitting on it, batting it about and finally putting it in a little stroller and rolling it all over the house.
Then he lost interest and found something else to play with as I was finishing up dishes and watching Black Hawk Down again, not one of my favorite movies, but anyway…went out to the patio to smoke and he followed me out with the stroller and then went back into the house. He came back a moment later almost in tears with a very sad look on his face carrying a completely deflated little orange balloon.
So I took it from him and attacked the tight double knot of ribbon that held the neck of the balloon closed. He watched, very intently as I struggled with my old arthritic fingers and nails to loosen the knot. It finally gave; I put the long ribbon on the glass topped patio table where I sat under a beach umbrella along with four other lawn chairs. The table rested on a large concrete slab just outside the dining room door. He often plays there as I smoke and drink coffee during the day. (No smoking in daughters house, sighs)
The neck of the balloon was stuck together somehow and it took another moment or so to loosen it wide enough to try to blow up the balloon again. I figured it was just a slow leak from a pinhole somewhere although he had pummeled it thoroughly earlier.
He started clapping and smiling as I blew the balloon larger and larger in front of him. I didn’t know if he had been teased with a balloon before, so when it was large enough, I turned it towards him and let the air gush into his face and hair. He looked a little startled for a moment then started laughing and jumping up and down. So I did it three or four more times and then blew it up and pulled the mouth of the balloon in that certain way to make funny sounds as the air squeaked out of the whistle like opening.
Again, he looked a little puzzled but was getting quite a kick out of the sound of his balloon.
So I did that a few times and then blew it up again, turned the big end towards him and let loose of the balloon. It shot right at him, bounced off and went up into the air and landed a few feet away on the concrete. He was really startled, to say the least and just stared at me and then the balloon until I urged him to go pick it up and bring in to me.
Just as he got close to the balloon, leaned over and reached a hand out, either a little gust of wind or some air left in the balloon, caused it to move, ever so slightly, but he saw it and quickly pulled his hand back away from the balloon.
Well, my daughter called me a ‘mean old man’, but I again urged him to pick up the balloon and bring it to me and so with some more words of encouragement, he finally reached out for it again.
I growled, trying to throw my voice, just as he was about to touch the balloon and that little boy jumped back, as much as little boys can jump, almost lost his balance and gave the balloon a real close look and then glanced back at me.
Now, I am laughing so hard tears are in my eyes as I urged him on to pick up the balloon and he circled around it pointing and shaking his head. Every time he would work up enough courage to reach out for it, I would growl and bark again and he would take his hand quickly away. This went on for several minutes and he would not touch that balloon, no matter how many times I urged him to.
Finally, and he did this all himself, he spied one of his mother’s garden gloves in a red clay flower pot on a small matching table under the dining room window. He picked up the glove, tried once to put it on, then walked over to the balloon and dropped the glove on top of it. This time I did not growl as he reached down and squished the glove down on the balloon to see if it was going to get him. Finally, but with the glove, not his fingers, he picked up the balloon and brought it to me.
I blew it up and let it loose several more times and although he was very cautious each time, he would pick the balloon up with the glove, hold it far away from him and bring it to me.
We tired of the game and I put the deflated balloon in a shirt pocket and we went back into the house.
Late that afternoon when the family returned from the beach, I told them all about our little adventure, pulled the balloon out of my pocket and inflated it again.
The same thing happened. He got all excited as the balloon flew wildly about the room, ran to it, but would not touch it with his bare hand, no matter who urged him on; he was not going to pick it up.
Finally he remembered the glove out on the patio, fetched it and picked up the balloon with the glove.
None of this is made up, not even enhanced and no poetic license involved. I can see in the writing of it that I did not do justice to the real humor of the event as it occurred, his expressions and body language were just priceless; I think you had to be there but it was funnier than all get out to me.
Amicus…
