In yesterday’s post, I alluded to the rubber nemesis I encountered this weekend. As a teensy recap, Will was being peppered with work calls, necessitating him to be on the phone for sometimes a half hour at a time while hunched over the computer. In my desperation to keep my kids and husband in neutral corners (as well as bribe my son to cut his long flowing hippie locks), I took my offspring to Target in order to look for new toys/activities we could do outside.
As we cruised the toy section, we saw the usual: water guns, water balloons, hula hoops, kites. Stella was enamored by the idea of Wubbles, whatever the hell those things are supposed to be. To me, they look like overinflated balloons with equally overinflated price points, certain to pop after one – maybe 2 – use(s), leaving your children’s joy scattered on the front lawn like so much pulverized rubberish material. AND it’s As Seen on TV. Hell to the no. Wubble is vetoed.
We saw the Face Plant Maker next – one of those goofy toys in which you put your ankle through a loop with a ball-like object at the end. You swing it around and around your leg while jumping over it. I think back in my day there was a lemon at the end? Anyway, the kids wanted it. Sure. Why not? Then we saw it: the Gigaball.
To be fair, I actually had something similar on both kids’ Amazon wish lists. It’s a huge hollow inflatable ball that kids can throw, kick, or even climb inside and roll around in. And here it was: on the shelf of Target, on sale, and on a day when I was feeling pretty desperate for outdoor fun inspiration. So welcome to the family, Gigaball.
I’m no slouch with an air pump. I’ve inflated pools, our Coleman loveseat, beach balls, Donuts, a huge giraffe, and a giant slice of pizza. I can inflate shit in my sleep. Gigaball should have been a breeze. I loaded up our water bottles when we got home and the kids and I settled in to the front yard to commence inflation. Two hours later I didn’t even have half the $&%*ing thing blown up.
A Gigaball is composed of a buttload of “cells,” which much be individually (or in pairs) inflated. Irritating, but not in and of itself a problem. The problem was the damn air ports. I have pores on my nose bigger than those damn things. I had to hold the air pump just so, causing my hand to cramp like mad. And to make it even better, the damn air ports wouldn’t stay closed properly, meaning the cell or three that you spent an hour on an hour ago was/were now only half full. I got pissed and took a break.I took my trusty air pump and blew up the kids’ new pool (the same one which, as you may recall from yesterday, Felix promptly deflated and dewatered). I went on air strike for the next few hours. Felix finally cajoled me back outside late that afternoon. Several times I said that we ought to return the stupid thing, that if I had known it was going to take an entire day to inflate, we would never had bought it. He pulled his little blue plastic chair next to mine and just sat with me, keeping me company. Every once in a while he would put his hand on my arm and give me the sweetest smile. ( Yeah, I’m doomed with this one.) At one point he told me “You can do anything, MyMom. You can do it. You just need practice.” Sure, Felix. I’ll spend the next 3 days on this if you keep that up.
I ran out of daylight that day. I actually didn’t get back to it until late Sunday, after all the Easter festivities were over. Will kept telling me I was being stupid, that we should return it, that it was a piece of shit. But y’all? At that point it was personal. I was going to make that Gigaball my bitch.