The Great Escape

I captured a dozen balloons last Saturday.



They fought and squirmed as I forced them into the back of my vehicle.




One, couldn't handle being confined and therefore exploded before I could reach home.




I tied them up, so I could keep them down (balloons are well known for making a break for it).




I turned my attention away from the prisoners so I could focus my attention on being the best mother in the world (that's right, it's a throw down) and make (from scratch) 1 bug cake and 1 red velvet cake.



You see, bugs are held captive in our home as well. Abram, or better known as 'Frankenstein's monster', over zealously stuffs them in pockets, mouths, or in palms, where they sadly meet their maker.






All the while, I heard whisperings of mutiny.



There was a trial by fire, and the verdict was unanimous.




There would be no freedom for the elastic covered helium, only new wardens.



There was a last meal,



carnage,








tales,



suspense,








and great emotion.
The night ended, each going it's separate way, tied now to the wrist of a small oppressor.



When the morning broke, there flew, high above it all, one lone leopard print rebel, ecstatic that it freed itself from tiny sugar-sweetened fingertips, untethered, unbridled, sovereign.


And there it still floats, yet 6 days later, prideful, belligerent, pompous.

It dares me to come after it.

Just wait little balloon, your days are numbered.








Our Christmas pictures are over at Kate's blog.