Balloon Man

A picture tells a thousand words, they say. I wonder what you make of this scene then.

A family on the beach. In Lebanon. On a Sunday afternoon. Two women, one man, and five kids; a morose teenager with an Iphone/BBM/Ipad or whatever it is they have glued to their hand these days, a pre-teen with a mood, a toddler, a rambunctious boy, a little girl with a terrible disposition, and a dog (that pissed on my SIL’s coat), all lounging in the sun on an empty pebble beach.

5 kids!

The Balloon Man

That’s what the balloon man thought as well. He had spotted us from miles away, and as there was no one else on the beach, we were his only potential customers. And five kids are a lot of potential customers.

“All yours?” he asked my brother in-law (BIL), pointed at the children.
“Sure,” BIL answered.
“And the women?”
“Mine too.”
“Both?”
“Yes.”
“That old one too?” the balloon man nodded in my direction.
“Yes. You don’t believe me?”
“No, not the old one, that one’s not yours.”

Be careful, balloon man, you’re playing with your life.

I find it funny how total strangers will talk about you as if you are not there. Or how they will ask you all kinds of very personal questions that really are none of their business.

Danielle asked: “do you kids ever complain about too many outings, and just want to stay home? " Haha, I think my teenage son and you should have a conversation. We keep telling him that later in life on he will remember, and even appreciate, these outings. He isn’t buying it, and only forces form higher up will help him decide to come along. What was this Sunday’s ‘force’? “You either stay home and study, or you can go with your mom on a picnic”, his father had said. The boy has his priorities; Picnic it was.