Can’t Top Pop

Two weekends ago my mother (Granny T) and father (Pop) came by to visit with Lana while John and I played our last match of the mixed-doubles tennis season (it was a crushing victory, in case you care). During the visit, Pop took a mylar balloon that I gave to Lana on Valentine’s Day and began throwing it around the living room by the weight at the end of its string. Eventually the balloon became lodged in our ceiling fan and wacky hijinks ensued.

End of story, right? Not hardly. Lana now takes great pleasure in retelling the details of the incident at least five times a day, EVERY day. It begins with animated pointing at the ceiling fan and chants of “Pop, Boon (balloon), Pop, Pop!” I am at this point obligated to indicate that I understand what she’s telling me – “Yes, Pop threw the balloon up into the fan.” She then nods happily, her whole body bobbing up and down as she recalls the thrill of seeing the balloon stuck in the fan. Once the nodding stops the grunting begins – this is my cue that I have reached the question and answer portion of the story. “Was Pop supposed to throw the balloon into the fan?” I oblige. “NO,” Lana replies and furrows her brow in an attempt to look stern and serious. “How did the balloon get down?” I ask. She thinks for a moment and then her face lights up as she exclaims, “Ganny! Ganny! Boon!” I interpret this as “Granny got the balloon down.” Lana flashes me a huge grin and then as quickly as the story began it is over, at least for the next 15 minutes.

I am both impressed by her memory of this incident and a little concerned that a balloon in a fan has been the highlight of her month. It seems we need to get out more.