I have a quick bit of advice for any parents tempted to throw themselves into a water balloon fight: Retreat! Retreat!
I’m not even talking about once these water balloons are flying through the air. I’m talking about having to fill those suckers up.
Recently I threw a birthday party for my youngest son. I decided to hold the party at the campground we camp at since the kids he was going to invite camp there.
I’ve been around these kids enough to know they like getting wet. In the lake they’re always splashing each other and on land they chase each other with water guns.
I went home that morning to fill up the balloons. I was dreading the fact I had bought two packages of 175 balloons, since it meant I’d be picking up 350 balloon pieces from the ground. But not long into the water balloon filling process I realized I’d be lucky to even hit the dozen mark.
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to fill up those little store-bought water balloons with water? My first few attempts ended up with balloons filled with water that were no larger in diameter than a quarter.
I decided to screw on the plastic faucet applicator that came in the package. That worked well. (Note: that last sentence is dripping with sarcasm, kind of like the water dripping down my face and shirt.)
I threw the plastic thing aside and instead secured the balloons directly onto the faucet. In the process I managed to rip some of them, which meant more water squirting into my face and onto my clothes. Some would fill up too close to the top so when I pulled them off the faucet the water would spray all over me and the countertop. Need I mention that barely a drop stayed inside the balloons?
And on and on it went. About 15 minutes into the process, out of 350 water balloons I had successfully filled two with water. Yep, two. So if we’re keeping score the water balloons are winning.
By now my hair is dripping, my shirt is drenched, and my pants are wet.
I looked at the picture on the package and the joy on the face of the smiling child. There was no joy on my face. I must have wiped it off with a towel. Finally I threw in the towel and switched to larger balloons that filled up quite easily with water. Except that I only had six of them, so I had to go buy more.
Back at the campground, about 24 minutes before the party was set to start, it started to pour. Not rain, but pour. I can’t put enough emphasis on the word pour.
I stood in the doorway of my trailer watching the downpour, wondering what to do now. I had no back-up indoor activities planned, but I did have a container filled with 82 water balloons – two of which were much smaller than the rest.
“It’s okay if it rains Tina,” shouted one of my son’s friends. “We don’t mind getting wet.”
Easy for you to say, I thought to myself, I just finally dried off.
