One Red Balloon=Total Mayhem.

It was an unseasonably chilly, mountain day.
It was drizzling.
It wasn't July-like.
Oh bother!
It seemed like a good idea to get out of the house- out of the Lotus Planet for a spell.
But what to do?

Hey, let's take Dew Drop to her first movie!
But what movie? There are two choices: Cars 2 or Winnie The Pooh.
After careful deliberation we choose Pooh.
Can't go wrong with Pooh.
Unlikely to be any bullies or any wrecks in a Pooh movie.
Pooh also offered the added bonus of allowing me to psychoanalyze everyone I know according to one of literature's all time greatest books The Tao of Pooh.
And there was the lure of popcorn! (pronounced 'pocorn' by Dew Drop)

Turning your kid onto cinema- onto the movies- what a quintessential modern delight!
And through most of the movie that was the case.
Dew Drop danced along to the songs.
Her mouth was agape watching the animation.
She laughed.
Until....

A red balloon graced the silver screen.
A red balloon kept gracing the silver screen.
"Uh-oh" Mama thought while remembering tear inducing, episodic helium flyaways in the not too distant past from balloons (pronounced baboons).
Damn that red balloon!
Mama and Babba looked at each other with the "let's hope we can hold steady through this," glance.

But it was too late. Within moments Dew Drop lost her cool.
Dew Drop let loose a fierce howl that quickly turned into hyperventilation.
"Where did that baboon go?!" she wailed.
Other parents turned in their seats to stare- glad it wasn't their kid this time.

This time it was our kid.
We deserved it.
We were due.
Our kid can't even watch Sesame Street at someone else's house without a hissy.
We carried her out of the theater.
Into the the parking lot we went.
Dew Drop turning heads with her relentless sobbing.

I tried to decipher those sobs.
I applied all that I know about how transitions are hard for Dew Drop.
About how in her life she's seen one too many people go bye-bye and she can't stand it again
especially from a damn balloon.
I thought about how adopted kids have high cortisol levels.
Their stress is physiological- you can gauge it.

Then at dinner
green beans, cucumbers, freshly dug potatoes
we asked her to explain her upset.
It wasn't what we thought.
It wasn't that she was sad that the balloon left.
It was that the balloon didn't take her along.

Of course.
Our girl the skylarker.
Our girl who asks why we don't have wings.
Our girl who wonders why we walk down the stairs instead of flying.
The balloon flying away without offering her an invitation was a personal affront.


It makes sense.
And Babba swears she'll be ten before we take her to another movie.


In the meantime, we analyze each other for Pooh traits.
The consensus is that Babba is 40% Owl, 40% Rabbit, 10%Eeyore, and 10% Pooh respectively.
It's been decided that I'm 50% Kanga, 20%Piglet, 20%Eeyore, and %10 Rabbit.
Dew Drop is pretty much all Tigger and Eeyore and Piglet-
all at once.