Balloon War

I adore water balloons!  I love the way they shift and sag in your hands like friendly jellyfish.  I love their danger:  the balloon skin barely holds in the water.  You know you could get drenched any second.  I love the rubber stretched so thin that light can almost pass through it.  I love the heft of a big water balloon.  Think:  your hands are full of water!  It’s impossible.  But for a few minutes, it’s true.

I love filling water balloons on a hot day.  Water splashes over you and soaks you while you’re standing at the tap trying to fit the tiny neck of the balloon over the wide rim of the faucet.  I love carrying water balloons out on the deck, raising them high over my head, and dropping them twelve feet to the grass below with a thud and a splash.  I love getting struck by a water balloon.  Cool water soaks into my T shirt and beads up on my skin.

Only one thing I don’t like about water balloons:  picking up their sad, skinny, pink and blue and orange rubber corpses when the balloon war has ended.

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