My fingers. They ache.
Today was Jenna’s third grade carnival at school. All year they earn market money for good behavior, and this carnival is one of the ways they get to spend their reward money. I signed up to man a booth. You know, supervise a game and then give out a prize. But then the mom in charge called me back and said, “Is it true that you do balloon animals?” Hmmm, I knew I should have kept my light under a bushel and never let anyone know I could do that. I was feeling generous, so I said that yes, I do, and yes, I would do balloon animals for the school carnival. I draw the line at dressing up in the clown costume, though. I’ve already got a gig scheduled and I don’t really want to dress up for the 3rd graders. So, today I got to the school by 9:15 to help set up and get ready. It was raining, but we were optimistic.
The day turned out to be nice, and I made something like a bazillion balloon animals for those little third grade rug rats.
(remind me not to hand the camera to my short daughter, who takes a picture from the worst angle, while I’m looking down at a balloon. Double chin shot time.)
My fingers are shot. My nails are damaged and ripped, and my hands were SCREAMING for lotion. But I survived. It was fun, it was for the kids, and they all had fun.
By the end of the two hours, the kids were supposed to go back inside to class, and I STILL had a line of 5-6 kids waiting to get their balloons.
As I walked out to the car, when I was finally freed from my job, my hands felt like they might fall off. I’m not conditioned for this kind of work! Now I remember why I’m not a clown.
Except on Monday, when I will be doing an appearance at the birthday party for my friend’s twins, who are turning 5. Oh, yeah. Because I’m so cool that way.