Ode to a Balloon

Oh Big White Balloon,

You are such a boon.

You keep baby busy from nine until noon.

She bops you, she bats you, she smothers you in prune,

She tries to catch you with a small plastic spoon.

Meanwhile, I am a tidying typhoon,

Blitzing my way through the kitchen and saloon*,

Cleaning and sorting and humming a tune,

Thinking I’m bound to have to stop soon …

But baby’s now wrapping you in a flowery festoon,

And putting you to bed with Rabbit and Baboon,

She reads you a book, turns out the moon,

And snuggles up next to you, eyes all a-swoon.

Oh, please stay with us, at least until June,

Lovely, lowly, Big White Balloon.

baby's best friend - a balloon

POP.

* well in France the living room is a “salon” so I cheated a bit. We don’t actually have a bar for cowboys complete with swinging doors in our house, although I know a nearly-five year-old who would be very happy with that state of affairs.

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3 thoughts on “Ode to a Balloon

  1. Cyril Fletcher is alive and well and living in the ardeche (or am I just showing my age; Who is Cyril Fletcher I hear you cry?)

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