Lofty dreams

For more than a month, ever since Sydney's birthday party, our dining room decor has included three Mylar balloons. The helium seemed destined to keep those things afloat forever. While the cat was thrilled by it (she couldn't walk by the dangling ribbons without taking a nibble), and Sydney loved seeing Dora at dinner time, I was getting sick of the added clutter.

So last week, I finally cut the balloons loose. Not completely loose. I tied them to a refrigerator magnet to keep them floating up to the very top of our vaulted ceilings. Alas, the magnet was no match for a 5-year-old football player who simply could not walk past the balloons without attempting to tackle them.

Actually, the magnet did just fine. It was the other end, where the ribbon wrapped around the balloon, that couldn't hang on. Up, up, up went the balloon.

Sydney's first solution was to drag a dining room chair over to the scene of the crime. Surely that would give her enough of a boost to reach the balloon.

Or maybe not.

Next she called me over to climb up on the chair. I tried to explain that wouldn't work, that Mommy still wouldn't be tall enough.

Not to be discouraged, Sydney next announced she would get Daddy to help.

"Sorry honey," I said. "Even Daddy's not going to be able to reach."

"But Daddy's strong," Sydney insisted. "He can get it."

Did I mention that was a week ago? Perhaps we could start a betting pool on when that balloon will finally come down. My guess is Halloween.