"Elmo? Elmo... Elmo... ELMO! ELMO! Eyes! ELMOOOOO!"
Elmo is like Elvis in this house. And, unfortunately, I'd just killed him.
On Easter Sunday, I took a trip to the $1 Store (huge score to have one of these close by - you never know when you'll need an emergency punchbowl) to procure a non-plastic Easter basket and assorted festoonery (success!). As I was checking out, I noticed the Elmo balloon at the balloon station. Figuring that $1 was well worth the delight that this balloon was sure to bring a tiny child with an extreme fondness for all things Elmo, I splurged and arrived home with this jaunty fellow.
What I hadn't counted upon:
- Very long balloon strings are hazardous to small toddlers. The child wasted no time in entangling herself as though she were a frenzied fox caught in a snare. We shortened up Elmo's tail almost immediately to avoid any future ensarements.
- The long-lasting nature of Mylar balloons is both a blessing and a curse. The child has been enjoying Elmo Balloon for over 3 weeks... which means that I've been waiting for him to hit the dust for about 2 of them.
A trip into the bathtub yesterday seemed to deflate any levity that Elmo had left in him (figure that one out, physics nerds - I'd like to see a formulaic rationale), but the child was not swayed to give up on him.
"Elmo!" she said, to his lifeless, bubble-encrusted, disembodied head. "Elmo?"
"It may be time for this Elmo to go bye bye," I said.
She looked at me in wonder and hugged her damp, deflated friend ever-tighter. I let it be.
After a bath today (Elmo sat this one out), I was dressing the child when, upon walking to the dresser, I myself became entangled in his frayed, dirty ribbon via an impressive ankle hold (Elmo Balloon may have have a bright future as a wrestler, had he not ended up here as a child's sporadically-beloved plaything). Seeing as how he was already deflated and now simply a nuisance, and seeing as how I was in the middle of tidying up the house anyway, I went on auto-pilot and just picked him up, popped him, and crumpled him up...
...with the child sitting there, staring at me, wide-eyed.
"Elmo?"
Oh, dear. How should I explain this one to an 18-month-old, in order to avoid upsetting her?
"Elmo's trash now."
Hmm... probably not that way.
"Twash?"
Oh, good. Perhaps I haven't emotionally scarred her for life due to having dispatched her Elmo right in front of her.
"Yes, it was time for Elmo to go bye-bye, so ... um ... well, he's trash now."
Good Lord. What is wrong with me?
"Elmo? Elmo!" she said, grabbing for what was left of him.
"Trash," I said, figuring that we'd come this far, and there was no turning back.
She looked at Elmo Balloon, and then, confused, back at me, and then at Elmo Balloon. "Twash," she agreed, a little sadly, and we threw him away together. RIP, Elmo Balloon. Despite your string being potentially hazardous to both children and adults, you served us nobly and well.
It's all I can do not to get back in the car and spend another $1 to procure Elmo Balloon's replacement, simply out of guilt for euthanizing him right in front of her. The only thing stopping me is the thought of having to find more interesting places to make Elmo Balloon #2 a sassy addition to modern decor until June.
