"Mom, could you come help me with something please," my son told me while I was perusing the birthday cards at a local drug store the other day. I'd broken one of the parenting rules that gets harder the older your children get, letting him get out of my sight. So I said, "sure," all the while thinking that he must have broken something. In his favor though, I hadn't heard a large crash in the last few minutes. He lead me to the bounce ball display. You know, those plastic bounce balls that every kid has at least one of at every house they go to?
Well, the display had enticed my son, who likes to take them out one by one and then throw them back in the top of the cage that is their home. Unfortunately, there must have been a mutiny on hand and about ten of the bounce balls had made a run for it, breaking the front of the display cage in the meantime. My son and I wrestled the remaining ones for enough room to reattach the front "gate" of the cage. Luckily the few escapees hadn't traveled far and were easy to capture and return to their quarantine. I did find it amusing that on almost all of the remaining aisles that we walked up and down as we finished our shopping, there was at least one convict bounce ball. At least my son allowed them a brief sense of freedom. Somehow reminded me of the short journey into the real world from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, or Awakenings.
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